H1H««u,uuiu<tt>iitit»i«ni*uwituv 


HERALDS 


m 


gi/-A-CLAUT 

:  1  '  i  I  Mi 


/ 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

PRESENTED  BY 

PROF.  CHARLES  A.  KOFOID  AND 

MRS.  PRUDENCE  W.  KOFOID 


HERALDS    OF    EMPIRE 


||eralii0  of  Empire 

BEING 
THE  STORY  OF  ONE  RAMSAY  STANHOPE 

Lieutenant  to  Pierre  Radisson  in  the  Northern  Fur  Trade 


BY 

A.   C.    LAUT 

AUTHOR  OF  LORDS  OF  THE  NORTH 


4£pLL6i 


NEW    YORK 

D.     APPLETON     AND     COMPANY 

1902 


Copyright,  1902 
By  D.  APPLETON  AND  COMPANY 


All  rights  reserved 


Puhlished  May,  1902 


DEDICATED 

TO 

THE   NEW   WORLD   NOBILITY 


fViS6o709 


i^otij  J  Irarneb  jboto  the  man  must  babe 

felt  tolben  be  jset  about  conquering  tbe  elements,  sub^ 
buing  lanb  anD  sea  and  sa^aofrp.  2Cnd  in  tbat  lie^ 
t\)t  isomeric  greatness  of  tbis  tast  fresb  4^etri  ^orTtJ 
of  ours.  Sour  <0ID  l^orlb  bictor  tafies  up  tbe  unfin^ 
isbeb  tijorft  "left  hi3  generations  of  men.  gour  j^eta 
l^orltJ  bero  begins  at  tbe  pristine  tasfi.  J  praio  ?ou, 
ttibo  are  born  to  tbe  nobilitn  of  tbe  ^em  ^oriD,  forget 
not  tbe  gloria  of  loour  beritage;  for  tbe  place  tobicb 
©o&  batb  giben  pou  in  tbe  bistoro  of  tbe  race  is  one 
tobicb  men  must  bolD  in  enbn  toben  J^oman  patrician 
and  l^orman  conqueror  and  robber  baron  are  a^  for-- 
gotten  as  tbe  fcingt?  lines  of  old  «2^g9pt. > 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 


Foreword 


PART   I 
1.    What  are  King-Killers? 
II.    I  Rescue  and  am  Rescued 
III.    Touching  Witchcraft      . 
IV.    Rebecca  and  Jack  Battle  conspire 
V.    M.  Radisson  again    ...» 


PART   II 
VI.    The  Roaring  Forties 
VII.    M.  de  Radisson  acts 
VIII.    M.  DE  Radisson  comes  to  his  Ow 

IX.    Visitors 

X.    The  Cause  of  the  Firing 
XL    More  of  M.  Radisson's  Rivals 
XII.    M.  Radisson  begins  the  Game 

XIII.  The  White  Darkness 

XIV.  A  Challenge      .        .        .        • 
XV.    The  Battle  not  to  the  Strong 

XVI.    We  seek  the  Inlanders  . 
XVII.    A  Bootless  Sacrifice 
XVIII.    Facing  the  End 

B  vii 


PAGB 
I 


7 
20 

31 

48 
66 


73 
87 
98 
"3 
124 
142 
150 
173 
183 
196 
210 
223 
234 


CHAPTER 

XIX. 

XX. 

XXI. 

XXII. 


HERALDS    OF    EMPIRE 


Afterward 

Who  the  Pirates  were 
How  THE  Pirates  came 
We  leave  THE  North  Sea 


PAGE 

233 
247 

260 

275 


PART   III 

XXIII.  A  Change  of  Partners         .        .        .        .287 

XXIV.  Under  the  ^^gis  of  the  Court  .        .        .    296 
XXV.    Jack  Battle  again 318 

XXVI.    At  Oxford 33i 

XXVII.    Home  from  the  Bay 338 

XXVIII.  Rebecca  and  I  fall  out       .        .        .        -343 

XXIX.    The  King's  Pleasure 3^3 


VIU 


HERALDS  OF  EMPIRE 


FOREWORD 

I  SEE  him  yet— swarthy,  straight  as  a  lance, 
keen  as  steel,  in  his  eyes  the  restless  fire  that 
leaps  to  red  when  sword  cuts  sword.    I  see  him 
yet— beating  about  the  high  seas,  a  lone  adven- 
turer, tracking  forest  wastes  where  no  man  else 
dare  go,  pitting  his  wit  against  the  intrigue  of 
king  and  court  and  empire.     Prince  of  path- 
finders, prince  of  pioneers,  prince  of  gamesters, 
he  played  the  game  for  love  of  the  game,  caring 
never  a  rush  for  the  gold  which  pawns  other 
men's  souls.     How  much  of  good  was  in  his  ill, 
how  much  of  ill  in  his  good,  let  his  Hfe  de- 
clare!    He   played  fast   and  loose  with   truth, 
I  know,  till  all  the  world  played  fast  and  loose 
with  him.     He  juggled  with  empires  as  with 
puppets,  but  he  died  not  a  groat  the  richer, 

I 


HERALDS    OF    EMPIRE 

which  is  better  record  than  greater  men  can 
boast. 

Of  enemies,  Sieur  Radisson  had  a-plenty, 
for  which,  methinks,  he  had  that  lying  tongue 
of  his  to  thank.  Old  France  and  New  France, 
Old  England  and  New  England,  would  have 
paid  a  price  for  his  head;  but  Pierre  Radisson's 
head  held  afar  too  much  cunning  for  any  hang- 
dog of  an  assassin  to  try  "  fall-back,  fall-edge  " 
on  him.  In  spite  of  all  the  malice  with  which 
his  enemies  fouled  him  living  and  dead,  Sieur 
Radisson  was  never  the  common  buccaneer 
which  your  cheap  pamphleteers  have  painted 
him;  though,  i'  faith,  buccaneers  stood  high 
enough  in  my  day,  when  Prince  Rupert  himself 
turned  robber  and  pirate  of  the  high  seas.  Pierre 
Radisson  held  his  title  of  nobility  from  the  king; 
so  did  all  those  young  noblemen  who  went  with 
him  to  the  north,  as  may  be  seen  from  M.  Col- 
bert's papers  in  the  records  de  la  marine.  Nor 
was  the  disembarking  of  furs  at  Isle  Percee  an 
attempt  to  steal  M.  de  la  Chesnaye's  cargo,  as 
slanderers  would  have  us  believe,  but  a  way  of 
escape  from  those  vampires  sucking  the  life- 

2 


FOREWORD 

blood  of  New  France — the  farmers  of  the  rev- 
enue. Indeed,  His  Most  Christian  :Majesty  him- 
self commanded  those  robber  rulers  of  Quebec 
to  desist  from  meddling  with  the  northern  ad- 
venturers. And  if  some  gentleman  who  has  never 
been  farther  from  city  cobblestones  than  to  ride 
afield  with  the  hounds  or  take  waters  at  foreign 
baths,  should  protest  that  no  maid  was  ever  in 
so  desolate  a  case  as  Mistress  Hortense,  I  an- 
swer there  are  to-day  many  in  the  same  region 
keeping  themselves  pure  as  pond-lilies  in  a 
brackish  pool,  at  the  forts  of  their  fathers  and 
husbands  in  the  fur-trading  country.* 

And  as  memory  looks  back  to  those  far  days, 
there  is  another— a  poor,  shambHng,  mean- 
spoken,  mean-clad  fellow,  with  the  scars  of  con- 
vict gyves  on  his  wrists  and  the  dumb  love  of  a 
faithful  spaniel  in  his  eyes.  Compare  these  two 
as  I  may— Pierre  Radisson,  the  explorer  with 


*  In  confirmation  of  which  reference  may  be  called  to  the 
daughter  of  Governor  Norton  in  Prince  of  Wales  Fort,  north 
of  Nelson.  Hearne  reports  that  the  poor  creature  died  from 
exposure  about  the  time  of  her  father's  death,  which  was 
many  years  after  Mr.  Stanhope  had  written  the  last  words  of 
this  record. — Author, 


HERALDS    OF   EMPIRE 

fame  like  a  meteor  that  drops  in  the  dark;  Jack 
Battle,  the  wharf-rat — for  the  life  of  me  I  can- 
not tell  which  memory  grips  the  more. 

One  played  the  game,  the  other  paid  the 
pawn.  Both  were  misunderstood.  One  took 
no  thought  but  of  self;  the  other,  no  thought 
of  self  at  all.  But  where  the  great  man  won 
glory  that  was  a  target  for  envy,  the  poor  sailor 
lad  garnered  quiet  happiness. 


PART   I 


CHAPTER    I 

WHAT    ARE    KIXG-KILLERS? 

My  father — peace  to  his  soul! — had  been  of 
those  who  thronged  London  streets  with  wine 
tubs  to  drink  the  restored  king's  health  on 
bended  knee;  but  he,  poor  gentleman,  departed 
this  life  before  his  monarch  could  restore  a 
wasted  patrimony.  For  old  Tibbie,  the  nurse, 
there  was  nothing  left  but  to  pawn  the  family 
plate  and  take  me,  a  spoiled  lad  in  his  teens, 
out  to  Puritan  kin  of  Boston  Town. 

On  the  night  my  father  died  he  had  spoken 
remorsefully  of  the  past  to  the  lord  bishop  at 
his  bedside. 

"  Tush,  man,  have  a  heart,"  cries  his  lord- 
ship. ''Thou'lt  see  pasch  and  yule  yet  forty 
year,  Stanhope.  Tush,  man,  'tis  thy  Hver,  or  a 
touch  of  the  gout.  Take  here  a  smack  of  port. 
Sleep  sound,  man,  sleep  sound." 

And  my  father  slept  so  sound  he  never 
wakened  more. 

So  I  came  to  my  Uncle  Kirke,  whose  vir- 

7 


HERALDS    OF   EMPIRE 

tues  were  of  the  acid  sort  that  curdles  the  milk 
of  human  kindness. 

With  him,  goodness  meant  gloom.  If  the 
sweet  joy  of  living  ever  sang  to  him  in  his  youth, 
he  shut  his  ears  to  the  sound  as  to  siren  tempt- 
ings,  and  sternly  set  himself  to  the  fierce  de- 
light of  being  miserable. 

For  misery  he  had  reason  enough.  Having 
writ  a  book  in  which  he  called  King  Charles 
"  a  man  of  blood  and  everlasting  abomination  '* 
— whatever  that  might  mean — Eli  Kirke  got 
himself  star-chambered.  When,  in  the  language 
of  those  times,  he  was  examined  ''  before  tor- 
ture, in  torture,  between  torture,  and  after  tor- 
ture " — the  torture  of  the  rack  and  the  thumb- 
kins  and  the  boot — he  added  to  his  former  testi- 
mony that  the  queen  was  a  ''  Babylonish  wom- 
an, a  Potiphar,  a  Jezebel,  a " 

There  his  mouth  was  gagged,  head  and 
heels  roped  to  the  rack,  and  a  wrench  given 
the  pulleys  at  each  end  that  nigh  dismembered 
his  poor,  torn  body.  And  what  words,  think 
you,  came  quick  on  top  of  his  first  sharp  out- 
cry? 

"Wisdom  is  justified  of  her  children!  The 
wicked  shall  he  pull  down  and  the  humble  shall 
he  exalt!" 

And  when  you  come  to  think  of  it,  Charles 

8 


WHAT   ARE    KING-KILLERS? 

Stuart  lost  his  head  on  the  block  five  years  from 
that  day. 

When  Eli  Kirke  left  jail  to  take  ship  for 
Boston  Town  both  ears  had  been  cropped.  On 
his  forehead  the  letters  S  L — seditious  libeler — 
were  branded  deep,  though  not  so  deep  as  the 
bitterness  burned  into  his  soul. 

There  comes  before  me  a  picture  of  my  land- 
ing, showing  as  clearly  as  it  were  threescore 
years  ago  that  soft,  summer  night,  the  harbour 
waters  molten  gold  in  a  har^-est  moon,  a  w'aiting 
group  of  figures  grim  above  the  quay.  No  firing 
of  muskets  and  drinking  of  flagons  and  ringing 
of  bells  to  welcome  us,  for  each  ship  brought 
out  court  minions  to  whip  Boston  into  line  with 
the  Restoration — as  hungry  a  lot  of  rascals  as 
ever  gathered  to  pick  fresh  bones. 

Old  Tibbie  had  pranked  me  out  in  brave 
finer}^:  the  close-cut,  black-velvet  waistcoat  that 
vouns:  rovalists  then  wore;  a  scarlet  doublet, 
flaming  enough  to  set  the  turkey  yard  afire;  the 
silken  hose  and  big  shoe-buckles  late  introduced 
from  France  by  the  king;  and  a  beaver  hat  with 
plumes  a-nodding  like  my  lady's  fan.  My  curls, 
I  mind,  tumbled  forward  thicker  than  those  fop- 
pish French  perukes. 

''  There  is  thy  Uncle  Kirke/'  whispers  Nurse 

9 


HERALDS    OF    EMPIRE 

Tibbie.  ''  Pay  thy  best  devoirs,  Master  Ram- 
say," and  she  pushes  me  to  the  fore  of  those 
crowding  up  the  docks. 

A  thin,  pale  man  with  a  scarred  face  silently 
permitted  me  to  salute  four  limp  fingers.  His 
eyes  swept  me  with  chill  disapproval.  My  hat 
clapped  on  a  deal  faster  than  it  had  come  of?, 
for  you  must  know  we  unhatted  in  those  days 
with  a  grand,  slow  bow\ 

"  Thy  Aunt  Ruth,"  says  Tibbie,  nudging 
me;  for  had  I  stood  from  that  day  to  this, 
I  was  bound  that  cold  man  should  speak 
first. 

To  my  aunt  the  beaver  came  off  in  its  grand- 
est flourish.  The  pressure  of  a  dutiful  kiss 
touched  my  forehead,  and  I  minded  the  passion 
kisses  of  a  dead  mother. 

Those  errant  curls  blew  out  in  the  wind. 

"  Ramsay  Stanhope,"  begins  my  uncle  sour- 
ly, ''  what  do  you  with  uncropped  hair  and  the 
foolish  trappings  of  vanity?  " 

As  I  live,  those  were  the  first  words  he  ut- 
tered to  me. 

"  I  perceive  silken  garters,"  says  he,  clearing 
his  throat  and  lowering  his  glance  dow'n  my  per- 
son. "  Many  a  good  man  hath  exchanged  silk 
for  hemp,  my  fine  gentleman!  " 

"  An  the  hemp  hold  like  silk,  'twere  a  fair 

10 


WHAT   ARE    KING-KILLERS? 

exchange,  sir,"  I  returned;  though  I  knew  very 
well  he  referred  to  those  men  who  had  died  for 
the  cause. 

''  Ramsay,"  says  he,  pointing  one  lank  fore- 
finger at  me,  "  Ramsay,  draw  your  neck  out  of 
that  collar;  for  the  vanities  of  the  wicked  are  a 
yoke  leading  captive  the  fooHsh!  " 

Now,  my  collar  was  point-de-vice  of  prime 
quality  over  black  velvet.  My  uncle's  welcome 
was  more  than  a  vain  lad  could  stomach;  and 
what  youth  of  his  first  teens  hath  not  a  vanity 
hidden  about  him  somewhere? 

"  Thou  shalt  not  put  the  horse  and  the  ass 
under  the  same  yoke,  sir,"  said  I,  drawing  myself 
up  far  as  ever  high  heels  would  lift. 

He  looked  dazed  for  a  minute.  Then  he  told 
me  that  he  spake  concerning  my  spiritual  blind- 
ness, his  compassions  being  moved  to  show  me 
the  error  of  my  way. 

At  that,  old  nurse  must  needs  take  fire. 

''  Lord  save  a  lad  from  the  likes  o'  sich  com- 
passions! Sure,  sir,  an  the  good  Lord  makes 
pretty  hair  grow,  'twere  casting  pearls  before 
swine  to  shave  his  head  like  a  cannon-ball  " — 
this  with  a  look  at  my  uncle's  crown — ''  or  to 
dress  a  proper  Httle  gentleman  like  a  ragged 
flibbergibbet." 

"Tibbie,  hold  your  tongue!"  I  order.       ^ 

2  II 


HERALDS    OF    EMPIRE 

''  Silence  were  fitter  for  fools  and  children," 
says  Eli  Kirke  loftily. 

There  comes  a  time  when  every  life  must 
choose  whether  to  laugh  or  weep  over  trivial 
pains,  and  when  a  cut  may  be  broken  on  the 
foil  of  that  glancing  mirth  which  the  good  Crea- 
tor gave  mankind  to  keep  our  race  from  going 
mad.  It  came  to  me  on  the  night  of  my  arrival 
on  the  wharves  of  Boston  Town. 

We  lumbered  up  through  the  straggling  vil- 
lage in  one  of  those  clumsy  coaches  that  had  late 
become  the  terror  of  foot-passengers  in  Lon- 
don crowds.  My  aunt  pointed  with  a  pride  that 
was  colonial  to  the  fine  light  which  the  towns- 
people had  erected  on  Beacon  Hill;  and  told 
me  pretty  legends  of  Rattlesnake  Hill  that  fired 
the  desire  to  explore  those  inland  dangers.  I 
noticed  that  the  rubble-faced  houses  showed 
lanterns  in  iron  clamps  above  most  of  the  door- 
ways. My  kinsman's  house  stood  on  the  verge 
of  the  walds — rough  stone  below,  timbered  plas- 
ter above,  with  a  circle  of  bay  windows  mid- 
way, like  an  umbrella.  High  windows  were 
safer  in  case  of  attack  from  savages,  Aunt  Ruth 
explained;  and  I  mentally  set  to  scaling  rope 
ladders  in  and  out  of  those  windows. 

We  drew  up  before  the  front  garden  and 
entered  by  a  turnstile  with  flying  arms.     IMany 

12 


WHAT   ARE    KING-KILLERS? 

a  ride  have  little  Rebecca  Stocking,  of  the 
court-house,  and  Ben  Gillam,  the  captain's  son, 
and  Jack  Battle,  the  sailor  lad,  had,  perched  on 
that  turnstile,  while  I  ran  pushing  and  jumping 
on,  as  the  arms  flew  creaking  round. 

The  home-coming  was  not  auspicious.  Yet 
I  thought  no  resentment  against  my  uncle.  I 
realized  too  well  how  the  bloody  revenge  of  the 
royalists  was  turning  the  hearts  of  England  to 
stone.  One  morning  I  recall,  when  my  poor 
father  lay  a-bed  of  the  gout  and  there  came  a 
roar  through  London  streets  as  of  a  burst  ocean 
dike.  Before  Tibbie  could  say  no,  I  had 
snatched  up  a  cap  and  was  off. 

God  spare  me  another  such  sight!  In  all 
my  wild  wanderings  have  I  never  seen  savages 
do  worse. 

Through  the  streets  of  London  before  the 
shoutings  of  a  rabble  rout  was  whipped  an  old, 
white-haired  man.  In  front  of  him  rumbled  a 
cart;  in  the  cart,  the  axeman,  laving  wet  hands; 
at  the  axeman's  feet,  the  head  of  a  regicide — 
all  to  intimidate  that  old,  white-haired  man, 
fearlessly  erect,  singing  a  psalm.  When  they 
reached  the  shambles,  know  you  what  they  did? 
Go  read  the  old  court  records  and  learn  what 
that  sentence  meant  when  a  man's  body  was 
cast  into  fire  before  his  living  eyes!     All  the 

13 


HERALDS   OF   EMPIRE 

while,  watching  from  a  window  were  the  princes 
and  their  shameless  ones. 

Ah,  yes!  God  wot,  I  understood  Eli  Kirke's 
bitterness! 

But  the  beginning  was  not  auspicious,  and 
my  best  intentions  presaged  worse.  For  in- 
stance, one  morning  my  uncle  was  sounding  my 
convictions — he  was  ever  sounding  other  peo- 
ple's convictions — "  touching  the  divine  right 
of  kings."  Thinking  to  give  strength  to  con- 
tempt for  that  doctrine,  I  applied  to  it  one  for- 
cible word  I  had  oft  heard  used  by  gentlemen 
of  the  cloth.  Had  I  shot  a  gun  across  the  table, 
the  effect  could  not  have  been  worse.  The  serv- 
ing maid  fell  all  of  a  heap  against  the  pantry 
door.  Old  Tibbie  yelped  out  with  laughter,  and 
then  nigh  choked.  Aunt  Ruth  glanced  from  me 
to  Eli  Kirke  with  a  timid  look  in  her  eye;  but 
Eli  Kirke  gazed  stolidly  into  my  soul  as  he 
would  read  whether  I  scoffed  or  no. 

Thereafter  he  nailed  up  a  little  box  to  re- 
ceive fines  for  blasphemy. 

"  To  be  plucked  as  a  brand  from  the  burn- 
ing," I  hear  him  say,  fetching  a  mighty  sigh. 

But  sweet,  calm  Aunt  Ruth,  stitching  at 
some  spotless  kerchief,  intercedes. 

"  Let  us  be  thankful  the  lad  hath  come 
to  us." 

14 


WHAT  ARE    KING-KILLERS? 

"  Bound  fast  in  cords  of  vanity,"  deplores 
Uncle  Kirke. 

"  But  all  things  are  possible,"  Aunt  Ruth 
softly  interposes. 

*'  All  things  are  possible/'  concedes  Eli  Kirke 
grudgingly,  ''  but  thou  knowest,  Ruth,  all  things 
are  not  probable!  " 

And  I,  knowing  my  uncle  loved  an  argument 
as  dearly  as  merry  gentlemen  love  a  glass,  slip 
away  leg-bail  for  the  docks,  where  sits  Ben  Gil- 
lam  among  the  spars  spinning  sailor  yarns  to 
Jack  Battle,  of  the  great  north  sea,  whither  his 
father  goes  for  the  fur  trade;  or  of  M.  Radisson, 
the  half-wild  Frenchman,  who  married  an  Eng- 
lish kinswoman  of  Eli  Kirke's  and  went  where 
never  man  went  and  came  back  with  so  many 
pelts  that  the  Quebec  governor  wanted  to  build 
a  fortress  of  beaver  fur;*  or  of  the  English 
squadron,  rocking  to  the  harbour  tide,  fresh 
from  winning  the  Dutch  of  Manhattan,  and 
ready  to  subdue  malcontents  of  Boston  Town. 

Then  Jack  Battle,  the  sailor  lad  from  no  one 
knows  where,  living  no  one  knows  how,   digs 

*  Young  Stanhope's  informant  had  evidently  mixed  tradi- 
tion with  fact.  Radisson  was  fined  for  going  overland  to 
Hudson  Bay  without  the  governor's  permission,  the  fine  to 
build  a  fort  at  Three  Rivers.  Eli  Kirke's  kinswoman  was  a 
daughter  of  Sir  John  Kirke,  of  the  Hudson's  Bay  Fur  Com- 
pany.— Author. 

15 


HERALDS   OF   EMPIRE 

his  bare  toes  into  the  sand  and  asks  under  his 
breath  if  we  have  heard  about  king-killers. 

"  What  are  king-killers?  "  demands  young 
Gillam. 

I  discreetly  hold  my  tongue;  for  a  gentleman 
who  supped  late  with  my  uncle  one  night  has 
strangely  disappeared,  and  the  rats  in  the  attic 
have  grown  boldly  loud. 

"What  are  king-killers?'*  asks  Gillam. 

"Them  as  sent  Charles  I  to  his  death," 
explains  Jack.  "  They  do  say,''  he  whispers 
fearfully,  "  one  o'  them  is  hid  hereabouts  now! 
The  king's  commission  hath  ordered  to  have 
hounds  and  Indians  run  him  down." 

"Pah!"  says  Gillam,  making  little  of  what 
he  had  not  known,  "  hounds  are  only  for  run- 
aways," this  with  a  sneering  look  at  odd  marks 
round  Jack's  wrists. 

"I  am  no  slave!"  vows  Jack  in  crestfallen 
tones. 

"Who  said  'slave'?"  laughs  Gillam  trium- 
phantly. "  My  father  saith  he  is  a  runaway  rat 
from  the  Barbadoes,"  adds  Ben  to  me. 

With  the  fear  of  a  hunted  animal  under  his 
shaggy  brows,  little  Jack  tries  to  read  how  much 
is  guess. 

"  I  am  no  slave,  Ben  Gillam,"  he  flings  back 
at  hazard;  but  his  voice  is  thin  from  fright. 

i6 


WHAT   ARE    KING-KILLERS? 

"  My  father  saith  some  planter  hath  lost  ten 
pound  on  thee,  Uttle  slavie/'  continues  Ben. 
''  Pah!  Ten  pound  for  such  a  scrub!  He's  not 
worth  six!  Look  at  the  marks  on  his  arms,  Ram- 
say "—catching  the  sailor  roughly  by  the  wrist. 
''  He  can  say  what  he  likes.    He  knows  chains." 

Little  Jack  jerked  free  and  ran  along  the 
sands  as  hard  as  his  bare  feet  could  carry  him. 
Then  I  turned  to  Ben,  who  had  always  bulUed 
us  both.  Dropping  the  solemn  *''  thou's  "  which 
our    elders    still    used,    I    let    him    have    plain 


"  you's  " 


You— you— mean   coward!     I've   a   mind 
to  knock  vou  into  the  sea!  " 

"  Grow  bigger  first,  little  billycock,"  taunts 

Ben. 

By  the  next  day  I  was  big  enough. 

Mistress  Hortense  Hillary  was  down  on  the 
beach  with  M.  Picot's  blackamoor,  who  dogged 
her  heels  wherever  she  went;  and  presently 
comes  Rebecca  Stocking  to  shovel  sand  too. 
Then  Ben  must  show  what  a  big  fellow  he  is 
by  kicking  over  the  little  maid's  cart-load. 

"  Stop  that!  "  commands  Jack  Battle,  sprmg- 
ing  of  a  sudden  from  the  beach. 
"^  For  an  instant,  Ben  was  taken  aback. 
Then  the  insolence  that  provokes  its  own 
punishment  broke  forth. 


HERALDS   OF   EMPIRE 

"  Go  play  with  your  equals,  jack-pudding! 
Jailbirds  who  ape  their  betters  are  strangled 
up  in  Quebec,"  and  he  kicked  down  Rebecca's 
pile  too. 

Rebecca's  doll-blue  eyes  spilled  over  with 
tears,  but  Mistress  Hortense  was  the  high- 
mettled,  high-stepping  little  dame.  She  fairly 
stamped  her  wrath,  and  to  Jack's  amaze  took 
him  by  the  hand  and  marched  off  with  the  hau- 
teur of  an  empress. 

Then  Ben  must  call  out  something  about  M. 
Picot,  the  French  doctor,  not  being  what  he 
ought,  and  little  Hortense  having  no  mother. 

"  Ben,"  said  I  quietly,  "  come  out  on  the 
pier."  The  pier  ran  to  deep  water.  At  the  far 
end  I  spoke. 

"  Not  another  word  against  Hortense  and 
Jack!    Promise  me!  " 

His  back  was  to  the  water,  mine  to  the  shore. 
He  would  have  promised  readily  enough,  I  think, 
if  the  other  monkeys  had  not  followed — Re- 
becca with  big  tear-drops  on  both  cheeks,  Hor- 
tense quivering  with  wrath.  Jack  flushed,  half 
shy  and  half  shamed  to  be  championed  by  a 
girl. 

"  Come,  Ben;  'fore  I  count  three,  prom- 
ise 

But  he  lugged  at  me.     I  dodged.     With  a 

i8 


WHAT   ARE    KING-KILLERS? 

splash  that  doused  us  four,  Ben  went  headlong 
into  the  sea.  The  uplift  of  the  waves  caught 
him.  He  threw  back  his  arms  with  a  cry.  Then 
he  sank  like  lead. 

The  sailor  son  of  the  famous  captain  could 
not  swim.  Rebecca's  eyes  nigh  jumped  from 
her  head  w^ith  fright.  Hortense  grew  white  to 
the  lips  and  shouted  for  that  lout  of  a  blacka- 
moor sound  asleep  on  the  sand. 

Before  I  could  get  my  doublet  ofif  to  dive, 
Jack  Battle  w^as  cleaving  air  like  a  leaping  fish, 
and  the  waters  closed  over  his  heels. 

Bethink  you,  w'ho  are  not  withered  into  for- 
getfulness  of  your  own  merry  youth,  whether 
our  hearts  stopped  beating  then! 

But  up  comes  that  water-dog  of  a  Jack  grip- 
ping Ben  by  the  scruff  of  the  neck;  and  when 
by  our  united  strength  we  had  hauled  them  both 
on  the  pier,  little  Mistress  Hortense  was  the 
one  to  roll  Gillam  on  his  stomach  and  bid  us 
"  Quick!  Stand  him  on  his  head  and  pour  the 
water  out!  " 

From  that  day  Hortense  was  Jack's  slave, 
Jack  was  mine,  and  Ben  was  a  pampered  hero 
because  he  never  told  and  took  the  punishment 
like  a  man.  But  there  was  never  a  word  more 
slurring  Hortense's  unknown  origin  and  Jack's 
strange  wrist  marks. 

19 


CHAPTER    II 

I    RESCUE    AND    AM    RESCUED 

So  the  happy  childhood  days  sped  on,  a 
swift  stream  past  flowered  banks.  Ben  went 
off  to  sail  the  north  sea  in  Captain  Gillam's 
ship.  M.  Picot,  the  French  doctor,  brought  a 
governess  from  Paris  for  Hortense,  so  that  we 
saw  little  of  our  playmate,  and  Jack  Battle  con- 
tinued to  live  like  a  hunted  rat  at  the  docks. 

^ly  uncle  and  Rebecca's  father,  who  were 
beginning  to  dabble  in  the  fur  trade,  had  joint- 
ly hired  a  peripatetic  dominie  to  give  us  young- 
sters  lessons  in  Bible  history  and  the  three  R's. 
At  noon  hour  I  initiated  Rebecca  into  all  the 
thrilling  dangers  of  Indian  warfare,  and  many 
a  time  have  we  had  wild  escapes  from  imaginary 
savages  by  scaling  a  rope  ladder  of  my  own  mak- 
ing up  to  the  high  nursery  window.  By-and- 
bye,  when  school  was  in  and  the  dominie  dozed, 
I  would  lower  that  timid  little  whiffet  of  a  Puri- 
tan maid  out  through  the  window  to  the  turn- 
stile. Then  I  would  ride  her  round  till  our  heads 
whirled.     If  Jack  Battle  came  along,  Rebecca 

20 


I    RESCUE   AND   AM    RESCUED 

would  jump  down  primly  and  run  in,  for  Jack 
was  unknown  in  the  meeting-house,  and  the 
meeting-house  was  Rebecca's  measure  of  the 
whole  world. 

One  day  Jack  lingered.  He  was  carrying 
something  tenderly  in  a  red  cambric  handker- 
chief. 

"  Where  is  ^Mistress  Hortense?  "  he  asked 
sheepishly. 

"  That  silly  French  woman  keeps  her  caged 
like  a  squirrel." 

Little  Jack  began  tittering  and  giggling. 

"  Why — that's  what  I  have  here,"  he  ex- 
plained, slipping  a  bundle  of  soft  fur  in  my  hand. 
"  It's  tame!    It's  for  Hortense,"  said  he. 

"  Why  don't  you  take  it  to  her.  Jack?  " 

"  Take  it  to  her?  "  reiterated  he  in  a  daze. 
"  As  long  as  she  gets  it,  what  does  it  matter 
who  takes  it?  " 

With  that,  he  was  off  across  the  marshy  com- 
mons, leaving  the  squirrel  in  my  hand. 

Forgetting  lessons,  I  ran  to  M.  Picot's  house. 
That  governess  answered  the  knocker. 

"  From  Jack  Battle  to  Alistress  Hortense!  " 
And  I  proffered  the  squirrel. 

Though  she  smirked  a  world  of  thanks,  she 
would  not  take  it.  Then  Hortense  came  dan- 
cing down  the  hall. 

21 


HERALDS   OF   EMPIRE 

"Am  I  not  grown  tall?"  she  asked,  mis- 
chievously shaking  her  curls. 

''  No,"  said  I,  looking  down  to  her  feet  cased 
in  those  high  slippers  French  ladies  then  wore, 
"  'tis  your  heels!  " 

And  we  all  laughed.  Catching  sight  of  the 
squirrel,  Hortense  snatched  it  up  with  caresses 
against  her  neck,  and  the  French  governess 
sputtered  out  something  of  which  I  knew  only 
the  word  "  beau." 

"  Jack  is  no  beau,  mademoiselle,"  said  I  loft- 
ily.   "Pah!     He's  a  wharf  lad." 

I  had  thought  Hortense  would  die  in  fits. 

"  Mademoiselle  means  the  squirrel,  Ram- 
say," she  said,  choking,  her  handkerchief  to  her 
lips.  "Tell  Jack  thanks,  with  my  love,"  she 
called,  floating  back  up  the  stairs. 

And  the  governess  set  to  laughing  in  the 
pleasant  French  way  that  shakes  all  over  and 
has  no  spite.  Emboldened,  I  asked  why  Hor- 
tense could  not  play  with  us  any  more.  Hor- 
tense, she  explained,  was  become  too  big  to 
prank  on  the  commons. 

"  Faith,  mademoiselle,"  said  I  ruefully,  "  an 
she  mayn't  play  war  on  the  commons,  what  may 
she  play?  " 

"Beau!"  teases  mademoiselle,  perking  her 
lips  saucily;  and  she  shut  the  door  in  my  face. 

22 


I    RESCUE   AND    AM    RESCUED 

It  seemed  a  silly  answer  enough,  but  it  put 
a  notion  in  a  lad's  head.  I  would  try  it  on 
Rebecca. 

When  I  re-entered  the  window,  the  dominie 
still  slept.  Rebecca,  the  demure  monkey,  bent 
over  her  lesson  book  as  innocently  as  though 
there  were  no  turnstiles. 

"  Rebecca,"  I  whispered,  leaning  across  the 
bench,  ''  you  are  big  enough  to  have  a — what? 
Guess." 

"  Go  aw^ay,  Ramsay  Stanhope! "  snapped 
Rebecca,  growm  mighty  good  of  a  sudden,  with 
glance  fast  on  her  white  stomacher. 

"O-ho!  Crosspatch,"  thought  I;  and  from 
no  other  motive  than  transgressing  the  forbid- 
den, I  reached  across  to  distract  the  attentive 
goodness  of  the  prim  little  baggage;  but — an 
iron  grip  Hfted  me  bodily  from  the  bench. 

It  was  Eli  Kirke,  wry-faced,  tight-lipped. 
He  had  seen  all!  This  was  the  secret  of  Mis- 
tress Rebecca's  new-found  diligence.  No  sylla- 
ble was  uttered,  but  it  w^as  the  awfullest  silence 
that  ever  a  lad  heard.  I  was  lifted  rather  than 
led  upstairs  and  left  a  prisoner  in  locked  room 
with  naught  to  do  but  gnaw  my  conscience  and 
gaze  at  the  w^oods  skirting  the  crests  of  the  in- 
land hills. 

Those  rats  in  the  attic  grew  noisier,  and  pres- 

23 


HERALDS    OF   EMPIRE 

ently  sounds  a  mighty  hallooing  outside,  with 
a  blowing  of  hunting-horns  and  baying  of 
hounds.  What  ado  was  this  in  Boston,  where 
men  were  only  hunters  of  souls  and  chasers  of 
devils?  The  rats  fell  to  sudden  quiet,  and  from 
the  yells  of  the  rabble  crowd  I  could  make  out 
only  ''King-killers!  King-killers!"  These 
were  no  Puritans  shouting,  but  the  blackguard 
sailors  and  hirelings  of  the  English  squadron  set 
loose  to  hunt  down  the  refugees.  The  shouting 
became  a  roar.  Then  in  burst  Eli  Kirke's  front 
door.  The  house  was  suddenly  filled  with 
swearings  enough  to  cram  his  blasphemy  box 
to  the  brim.  There  was  a  trampling  of  feet  on 
the  stairs,  followed  by  the  crashing  of  over- 
turned furniture,  and  the  rabble  had  rushed  up 
with  neither  let  nor  hindrance  and  were  search- 
ing every  room. 

Who  had  turned  informer  on  my  uncle? 
Was  I  not  the  only  royalist  in  the  house? 
Would  suspicion  fall  on  me?  But  questions 
were  put  to  flight  by  a  thunderous  rapping  on 
the  door.  It  gave  as  it  had  been  cardboard, 
and  in  tumbled  a  dozen  ruffians  with  gold-lace 
doublets,  cockades  and  clanking  swords. 

Behind  peered  Eli  Kirke,  pale  with  fear,  his 
eyes  asking  mine  if  I  knew.  True  as  eyes  can 
speak,  mine  told  him  that  I  knew  as  well  as  he. 

24 


I    RESCUE   AND   AM    RESCUED 

"  Body  o'  me!  What-a-deuce?  Only  a  lit- 
tle fighting  sparrow  of  a  royalist!  "  cried  a  swag- 
gering colt  of  a  fellow  in  officer's  uniform. 

"  No  one  here,  lad?  "  demanded  a  second. 

And  I  saw  Eli  Kirke  close  his  eyes  as  in 
prayer. 

"  Sir,"  said  I,  drawing  myself  up  on  my  heels, 
"  I  don't  understand  you.    I — am  here." 

They  bellowed  a  laugh  and  were  tumbling 
over  one  another  in  their  haste  up  the  attic 
stairs.  Then  my  blood  went  cold  with  fear,  for 
the  memory  of  that  poor  old  man  going  to  the 
shambles  of  London  flashed  back. 

A  window  lifted  and  fell  in  the  attic  gable. 
With  a  rush  I  had  slammed  the  door  and  was 
craning  out  full  length  from  the  window-sill. 
Against  the  lattice  timber-work  of  the  plastered 
wall  below  the  attic  window  clung  a  figure  in 
Geneva  cloak,  with  portmanteau  under  arm.  It 
was  the  man  who  had  supped  so  late  with  Eli 
Kirke. 

"  Sir,"  I  whispered,  fearing  to  startle  him 
from  perilous  footing,  ''  let  me  hold  your  port- 
manteau.    Jump  to  the  slant  roof  below." 

For  a  second  his  face  went  ashy,  but  he 
tossed  me  the  bag,  gained  the  shed  roof  at  a 
leap,  snatched  back  the  case,  and  with  a  "  Lord 
bless  thee,  child!"  was  down  and  away. 

25 


HERALDS    OF    EMPIRE 

The  spurred  boots  of  the  searchers  clanked 
on  the  stairs.  A  blowing  of  horns!  They  were 
all  to  horse  and  off  as  fast  as  the  hounds  coursed 
away.  The  deep,  far  baying  of  the  dogs,  now 
loud,  now  low%  as  the  trail  ran  away  or  the  wind 
blew  clear,  told  where  the  chase  led  inland.  If 
the  fugitive  but  hid  till  the  dogs  passed  he  w^as 
safe  enough;  but  of  a  sudden  came  the  hoarse, 
furious  barkings  that  signal  hot  scent. 

What  had  happened  was  plain. 

The  poor  wretch  had  crossed  the  road  and 
given  the  hounds  clew.  The  baying  came  nearer. 
He  had  discovered  his  mistake  and  was  trying 
to  regain  the  house. 

Balaam  stood  saddled  to  carry  Eli  Kirke  to 
the  docks.  'Twas  a  wan  hope,  but  in  a  twinkling 
I  was  riding  like  wind  for  the  barking  behind 
the  hill.  A  white-faced  man  broke  from  the 
brush  at  crazy  pace. 

*'  God  ha'  mercy,  sir,"  I  cried,  leaping  off; 
"to  horse  and  away!  Ride  up  the  brook  bed 
to  thrown  the  hounds  off." 

I  saw  him  in  saddle,  struck  Balaam's  flank 
a  blow  that  set  pace  for  a  gallop,  turned,  and — 
for  a  second  time  that  day  was  lifted  from  the 
ground. 

''  Pardieu!  Clean  done!  "  says  a  low  voice. 
"'Tis  a  pretty  trick!" 

26  / 


I    RESCUE   AND   AM    RESCUED 

And  I  felt  myself  set  up  before  a  rider. 

*'  To  save  thee  from  the  hounds/'  says  the 
voice. 

Scarce  knowing  whether  I  dreamed,  I  looked 
over  my  shoulder  to  see  one  who  was  neither 
royalist  nor  Puritan — a  thin,  swarth  man,  tall 
and  straight  as  an  Indian,  bare-shaven  and 
scarred  from  war,  with  long,  wiry  hair  and  black 
eyes  full  of  sparks. 

The  pack  came  on  in  a  whirl  to  lose  scent 
at  the  stream,  and  my  rescuer  headed  our  horse 
away  from  the  rabble,  doffing  his  beaver  famil- 
iarly to  the  officers  galloping  past. 

"Ha!"  called  one,  reining  his  horse  to  its 
haunches,  "  did  that  snivelling  knave  pass  this 
way?  " 

"  Do  you  mean  this  little  gentleman?  " 

The  officer  galloped  off.  ''  Keep  an  eye 
open,  Radisson,"  he  shouted  over  his  shoulder. 

"  'Twere  better  shut,"  says  M.  Radisson 
softly;  and  at  his  name  my  blood  pricked  to 
a  jump. 

Here  was  he  of  whom  Ben  Gillam  told,  the 
half-wild  Frenchman,  who  had  married  the  roy- 
alist kinswoman  of  Eli  Kirke;  the  hero  of  Span- 
ish fights  and  Turkish  wars;  the  bold  explorer 
of  the  north  sea,  who  brought  back  such  wealth 
from  an  unknown  land,  governors  and  merchant 
3  27 


HERALDS    OF    EMPIRE 

princes  were  spying  his  heels  Hke  pirates  a  treas- 
ure ship. 

"  'Tis  more  sport  hunting  than  being  hunt- 
ed/' he  remarked,  with  an  air  of  quiet  reminis- 
cence. 

His  suit  was  fine-tanned,  cream  buckskin, 
garnished  with  gold  braid  like  any  courtier's, 
with  a  deep  collar  of  otter.  Unmindful  of  man- 
ners, I  would  have  turned  again  to  stare,  but 
he  bade  me  guide  the  horse  back  to  my  home. 

"  Lest  the  hunters  ask  questions,"  he  ex- 
plained. "  And  what,"  he  demanded,  "  what 
doth  a  little  cavalier  in  a  Puritan  hotbed? " 

"  I  am  even  where  God  hath  been  pleased  to 
set  me,  sir." 

**  'Twas  a  ticklish  place  he  set  thee  when 
I  came  up." 

"  By  your  leave,  sir,  'tis  a  higher  place  than 
I  ever  thought  to  know." 

M.  Radisson  laughed  a  low,  mellow  laugh, 
and,  vowing  I  should  be  a  court  gallant,  put 
me  down  before  Eli  Kirke's  turnstile. 

My  uncle  came  stalking  forth,  his  lips  pale 
with  rage.  He  had  blazed  out  ere  I  could  ex- 
plain one  word. 

"  Have  I  put  bread  in  thy  mouth,  Ramsay 
Stanhope,  that  thou  shouldst  turn  traitor?  Vi- 
per and  imp  of  Satan!  "  he  shouted,  shaking  his 

28 


I    RESCUE   AND    AM    RESCUED 

clinched  fist  in  my  face.  '*'  Was  it  not  enough 
that  thou  wert  utterly  bound  in  iniquity  with- 
out persecuting  the  Lord's  anointed?  '' 

I  took  a  breath. 

''  Where  is  Balaam?  "  he  demanded,  seizing 
me  roughly. 

"  Sir,"  said  I,  '*'  for  leaving  the  room  with- 
out leave,  I  pray  you  to  flog  me  as  I  deserve. 
As  for  the  horse,  he  is  safe  and  I  hope  far 
away  under  the  gentleman  I  helped  down  from 
the  attic." 

His  face  fell  a-blank.  M.  Radisson  dis- 
mounted laughing. 

"  Nay,  nay,  Eli  Kirk'e,  I  protest  'twas  to 
the  lad's  credit.  'Twas  this  way,  kinsman,"  and 
he  told  all,  with  many  a  strange-sounding,  for- 
eign expression  that  must  have  put  the  Puri- 
tan's nose  out  of  joint,  for  Eli  Kirke  began  blow- 
ing like  a  trumpet. 

Then  out  comes  Aunt  Ruth  to  insist  that 
M.  Radisson  share  a  haunch  of  venison  at  our 
noonday  meal. 

And  how  I  wish  I  could  tell  you  of  that 
dinner,  and  of  all  that  M.  Radisson  talked;  of 
captivity  among  Iroquois  and  imprisonment  in 
Spain  and  wars  in  Turkey;  of  his  voyage  over 
land  and  lake  to  a  far  north  sea,  and  of  the 
conspiracy  among  merchant  princes  of  Quebec 

29 


HERALDS    OF    EMPIRE 

to  ruin  him.  By-and-bye  Rebecca  Stocking's 
father  came  in,  and  the  three  sat  talking  plans 
for  the  northern  trade  till  M.  Radisson  let  drop 
that  the  English  commissioners  were  keen  to 
join  the  enterprise.  Then  the  two  Puritans 
would  have  naught  to  do  with  it. 

Long  ago,  as  you  know,  we  dined  at  mid- 
day; but  so  swiftly  had  the  hour  flown  with  M. 
Radisson's  tales  of  daring  that  Tibbie  was  al- 
ready lighting  candles  when  we  rose  from  the 
dinner  table. 

'*  And  now,"  cried  M.  Radisson,  lifting  a 
stirrup-cup  of  home-brewed  October,  ''  health 
to  the  little  gentleman  who  saved  a  life  to-day! 
Health  to  mine  host!  And  a  cup  fathoms  deep 
to  his  luck  when  Ramsay  sails  yon  sea!  " 

"  He  might  do  worse,"  said  Eli  Kirke  grimly. 

And  the  words  come  back  like  the  echo  of 
a  prophecy. 

I  would  have  escaped  my  uncle,  but  he  way- 
laid me  in  the  dark  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs. 

"  Ramsay,"  said  he  gently. 

"  Sir?  "  said  I,  wondering  if  flint  could  melt. 

"'The  Lord  bless  thee,  and  keep  thee:  the 
Lord  make  his  face  shine  upon  thee,  and  be 
gracious  unto  thee:  the  Lord  lift  up  his  counte- 
nance upon  thee,  and  give  thee  peace! 

30 


CHAPTER    III 

TOUCHING  WITCHCRAFT 

That  interrupted  lesson  with  Rebecca  fin- 
ished my  schooHng.  I  was  set  to  learning  the 
mysteries  of  accounts  in  Eli  Kirke's  warehouse. 

"  How  goes  the  keeping  of  accounts,  Ram- 
say? "  he  questioned  soon  after  I  had  been  in 
tutelage. 

I  had  always  intended  to  try  my  fortune  in 
the  English  court  when  I  came  of  age,  and  the 
air  of  the  counting-house  ill  suited  a  royalist's 
health. 

"Why,  sir,"  I  made  answer,  picking  my 
words  not  to  trip  his  displeasure,  "  I  get  as  much 
as  I  can — and  I  give  as  Uttle  as  I  can;  and  those 
be  all  the  accounts  that  ever  I  intend  to  keep." 

Aunt  Ruth  looked  up  from  her  spinning- 
wheel  in  a  way  that  had  become  an  alarm  sig- 
nal. Eli  Kirke  glanced  dubiously  to  the  blas- 
phemy box,  as  though  my  words  were  action- 
able. There  was  no  sound  but  the  drone  of  the 
loom  till  I  slipped  from  the  room.     Then  they 

31 


HERALDS    OF   EMPIRE 

both  began  to  talk.  Soon  after  came  transfer 
from  the  counting-house  to  the  fur  trade.  That 
took  me  through  the  shadowy  forests  from  town 
to  town,  and  when  I  returned  my  old  comrades 
seemed  shot  of  a  sudden  from  youth  to  man- 
hood. 

There  was  Ben  Gillam,  a  giff-gaffing  blade 
home  from  the  north  sea,  so  topful  of  spray 
that  salt  water  spilled  over  at  every  word. 

"  Split  me  fore  and  aft,"  exclaims  Ben,  "  if 
I  sail  not  a  ship  of  my  own  next  year!  I'll  take 
the  boat  without  commission.  Stocking  and  my 
father  have  made  an  offer,"  he  hinted  darkly. 
"I'll  go  without  commission!" 

"And  risk  being  strangled  for't,  if  the 
French  governor  catch  you." 

"Body  o'  me!"  flouts  Ben,  ripping  out  a 
peck  of  oaths  that  had  cost  dear  and  meant  a 
day  in  the  stocks  if  the  elders  heard,  "who's 
going  to  inform  when  my  father  sails  the  only 
other  ship  in  the  bay?  Devil  sink  my  soul  to 
the  bottom  of  the  sea  if  I  don't  take  a  boat  to 
Hudson  Bay  under  the  French  governor's 
nose! " 

"  A  boat  of  your  own,"  I  laughed.    "  What 

for,  Ben?  " 

"  For  the  same  as  your  Prince  "Rupert, 
Prince  Robber,  took  his.     Go  out  light  as  a 

32 


TOUCHING   WITCHCRAFT 

cork,  come  back  loaded  with  Spanish  gold  to 
the  water-Hne."  Ben  paused  to  take  a  pinch  of 
snuff  and  display  his  new  embroidered  waist- 
coat. 

"  Look  you  at  the  wealth  in  the  beaver 
trade,"  he  added.  ''  M.  Radisson  went  home 
with  George  Carteret  not  worth  a  curse,  formed 
the  Fur  Company,  and  came  back  from  Hud- 
son Bay  with  pelts  packed  to  the  quarter-deck. 
Devil  sink  me!  but  they  say,  after  the  fur  sale, 
the  gentlemen  adventurers  had  to  haul  the  gold 
through  London  streets  with  carts!  Bread  o' 
grace,  Ramsay,  have  half  an  eye  for  your  own 
purse!"  he  urged.  "There  is  a  life  for  a  man 
o'  spirit!  Why  don't  you  join  the  beaver  trade, 
Ramsay?  " 

Why  not,  indeed?  'Tw^as  that  or  turn  cut- 
purse  and  road-Ufter  for  a  youth  of  birth  with- 
out means  in  those  days. 

Of  Jack  Battle  I  saw  less.  He  shipped  with 
the  fishing  boats  in  the  summer  and  cruised  with 
any  vagrant  craft  for  the  winter.  When  he  came 
ashore  he  was  as  small  and  eel-like  and  shy  and 
awkward  as  ever,  with  the  same  dumb  fidelity 
in  his  eyes. 

And  what  a  sno\\7  maid  had  Rebecca  be- 
come! Sitting  behind  her  spinning-wheel,  with 
her  dainty  fingers  darting  in  the  sunlight,  she 

33 


HERALDS    OF   EMPIRE 

seemed  the  pink  and  whitest  thing  that  ever 
grew,  with  a  look  on  her  face  of  apple-blossoms 
in  June;  but  the  sly  wench  had  grown  mighty 
demure  with  me.  When  I  laughed  over  that 
ending  to  our  last  lesson,  she  must  affect  an 
air  of  injury.  'Twas  neither  her  fault  nor  mine, 
I  declare,  coaxing  back  her  good-humour;  'twas 
the  fault  of  the  face.  I  w^anted  to  see  where  the 
white  began  and  the  pink  ended.  Then  Re- 
becca, with  cheeks  a-bloom  under  the  hiding  of 
her  bonnet,  quickens  steps  to  the  meeting-house; 
but  as  a  matter  of  course  we  walk  home  to- 
gether, for  behind  march  the  older  folk,  staidly 
discoursing  of  doctrine. 

"  Rebecca,"  I  say,  "  you  did  not  take  your 
eyes  off  the  preacher  for  one  minute." 

"  How  do  you  know,  Ramsay?  "  retorts  Re- 
becca, turning  her  face  away  with  a  dimple  trem- 
bling in  her  chin,  albeit  it  was  the  Sabbath. 

"  That  preacher  is  too  handsome  to  be  sound 
in  his  doctrine,  Rebecca." 

Then  she  grows  so  mighty  prim  she  must 
ask  which  heading  of  the  sermon  pleases  me 
best. 

"  I  liked  the  last,"  I  declare;  and  with  that, 
we  are  at  the  turnstile. 

Hortense  became  a  vision  of  something  lost, 
a  type  of  what  I  had  known  when  great  ladies 

34 


TOUCHING   WITCHCRAFT 

came  to  our  country  hall.  M.  Picot  himself 
took  her  on  the  grand  tour  of  the  Continent. 
How  much  we  had  been  hoping  to  see  more  of 
her  I  did  not  realize  till  she  came  back  and  we 
saw  less. 

Once  I  encountered  M.  Picot  and  his  ward 
on  the  wharf.  Her  curls  were  more  wayward 
than  of  old  and  her  large  eyes  more  lustrous, 
full  of  deep,  new  lights,  dark  like  the  flash  of  a 
black  diamond.  Her  form  appeared  slender 
against  the  long,  flowing  mantilla  shot  with  gold 
Hke  any  grand  dame's.  She  wore  a  white  beaver 
with  plumes  sweeping  down  on  her  curls.  In- 
deed, Httle  Hortense  seemed  altogether  such  a 
great  lady  that  I  held  back,  though  she  was 
looking  straight  towards  me. 

"  Give  you  good-e'en,  Ramsay,"  salutes  M. 
Picot,  a  small,  thin  man  with  pointed  beard,  eye- 
brows of  a  fierce  curlicue,  and  an  expression 
under  half-shut  lids  like  cat's  eyes  in  the  dark. 
"Give  you  good-e'en!  Can  you  guess  who 
this  is?  " 

As  if  any  one  could  forget  Hortense!  But 
I  did  not  say  so.  Instead,  I  begged  leave  to 
welcome  her  back  by  saluting  the  tips  of  her 
gloved  fingers.  She  asked  me  if  I  minded  that 
drowning  of  Ben  long  ago.  Then  she  wanted 
to  know  of  Jack. 

35 


HERALDS   OF   EMPIRE 

"  I  hear  you  are  fur  trading,  Ramsay?  "  re- 
marks M.  Picot  with  the  inflection  of  a  ques- 
tion. 

I  told  him  somewhat  of  the  trade,  and  he 
broke  out  in  almost  the  same  words  as  Ben  Gil- 
lam.  'Twas  the  life  for  a  gentleman  of  spirit. 
Why  didn't  I  join  the  beaver  trade  of  Hudson 
Bay?  And  did  I  know  of  any  secret  league  be- 
tween Captain  Zachariah  Gillam  and  Mr.  Stock- 
ing to  trade  without  commission? 

"  Ah,  Hillary,"  he  sighed,  "  had  we  been 
beaver  trading  like  Radisson  instead  of  pound- 
ing pestles,  we  might  have  had  little  Hortense 
restored." 

"Restored!"  thought  I.  And  M.  Picot 
must  have  seen  my  surprise,  for  he  drew  back 
to  his  shell  like  a  pricked  snail.  Observing  that 
the  wind  was  chill,  he  bade  me  an  icy  good- 
night. 

I  had  no  desire  to  pry  into  M.  Picot's  secrets, 
but  I  could  not  help  knowing  that  he  had  un- 
bended to  me  because  he  was  interested  in  the 
fur  trade.  From  that  'twas  but  a  step  to  the 
guess  that  he  had  come  to  New  England  to 
amass  wealth  to  restore  Mistress  Hortense. 

Restore  her  to  what?  There  I  pulled  up 
sharp.  'Twas  none  of  my  afifair;  and  yet,  in  spite 
of  resolves,  it  daily  became  more  of  my  affair. 

36 


TOUCHING   WITCHCRAFT 

Do  what  I  would,  spending  part  of  every  day 
W'ith  Rebecca,  that  image  of  lustrous  eyes  un- 
der the  white  beaver,  the  plume  nodding  above 
the  curls,  the  slender  figure  outlined  against  the 
gold-shot  mantilla,  became  a  haunting  memory. 
Countless  times  I  blotted  out  that  mental  pic- 
ture with  a  sweep  of  common  sense.  "  She  was 
a  pert  miss,  with  her  head  full  of  French  non- 
sense and  a  nose  held  too  high  in  air."  Then 
a  memory  of  the  eyes  under  the  beaver,  and  fancy 
was  at  it  again  spinning  cobwebs  in  moonshine. 

M.  Picot  kept  more  aloof  than  formerly,  and 
was  as  heartily  hated  for  it  as  the  little  minds 
of  a  little  place  ever  hate  those  apart. 

Occasionally,  in  the  forest  far  back  from  the 
settlement,  I  caught  a  flying  glimpse  of  Lincoln 
green;  and  Hortense  went  through  the  woods, 
hard  as  her  Irish  hunter  could  gallop,  followed 
by  the  blackamoor,  churning  up  and  down  on 
a  blowing  nag.  Once  I  had  the  good  luck  to 
restore  a  dropped  gauntlet  before  the  blacka- 
moor could  come.  With  eyes  alight  she  threw 
me  a  flashing  thanks  and  was  off,  a  sunbeam 
through  the  forest  shades;  and  something  was 
thumping  under  a  velvet  waistcoat  faster  than 
the  greyhound's  pace.  A  moment  later,  back 
came  the  hound  in  spring}^  stretches,  with  the 
riders  at  full  gallop. 

37 


HERALDS   OF   EMPIRE 

Her  whip  fell,  but  this  time  she  did  not 
turn. 

But  when  I  carried  the  whip  to  the  doctor's 
house  that  night,  M.  Picot  received  it  with  scant 
grace ! 

Whispers — gall-midges  among  evil  tongues 
— were  raising  a  buzz  that  boded  ill  for  the  doc- 
tor. France  had  paid  spies  among  the  English, 
some  said.  Deliverance  Dobbins,  a  frumpish, 
fizgig  of  a  maid,  ever  complaining  of  bodily  ills 
though  her  chuffy  cheeks  were  red  as  pippins, 
reported  that  one  day  when  she  had  gone  for 
simples  she  had  seen  strange,  dead  things  in  the 
jars  of  M.  Picot's  dispensary.  At  this  I  laughed 
as  Rebecca  told  it  me,  and  old  Tibbie  winked 
behind  the  little  Puritan  maid's  head;  for  my 
father,  Hke  the  princes,  had  known  that  love  of 
the  new  sciences  which  became  a  passion  among 
gentlemen.  Had  I  not  noticed  the  mole  on  the 
French  doctor's  cheek?  Rebecca  asked.  I  had: 
what  of  it? 

"The  crops  have  been  blighted,"  says  Re- 
becca; though  what  connection  that  had  with 
M.  Picot's  mole,  I  could  not  see. 

"  Deliverance  Dobbins  oft  hath  racking 
pains,"  says  Rebecca,  with  that  air  of  injury 
which  became  her  demure  dimples  so  well. 

"  Drat  that  Deliverance  Dobbins  for  a  low- 

38 


TOUCHING   WITCHCRAFT 

bred  mongrel  mischief-maker! "  cries  old  Tibbie 
from  the  pantry  door. 

''  Tibbie/'  I  order,  "  hold  your  tongue  and 
drop  an  angel  in  the  blasphemy  box." 

"  'Twas  good  coin  wasted,"  the  old  nurse 
vowed;  but  I  must  needs  put  some  curb  on  her 
royalist  tongue,  which  was  ever  running  a-riot 
in  that  Puritan  household. 

It  was  an  accident,  in  the  end,  that  threw 
me  across  M.  Picot's  path.  I  had  gone  to  have 
him  bind  up  a  spHntered  wrist,  and  he  invited 
me  to  stay  for  a  round  of  piquet.  I,  having 
only  one  hand,  must  beg  Mistress  Hortense  to 
sort  the  cards  for  me. 

She  sat  so  near  that  I  could  not  see  her. 
You  may  guess  I  lost  every  game. 

''Tut!  tut!  Hillary  dear,  'tis  a  poor  helper 
Ramsay  gained  when  he  asked  your  hand.  Pish! 
pish!"  he  added,  seeing  our  faces  crimson; 
"  come  away,"  and  he  carried  me  off  to  the  dis- 
pensary, as  though  his  preserved  reptiles  would 
be  more  interesting  than  Hortense. 

With  an  indifiference  a  trifle  too  marked,  he 
brought  me  round  to  the  fur  trade  and  wanted 
to  know  whether  I  would  be  willing  to  risk  trad- 
ing without  a  license,  on  shares  with  a  partner. 

"  Quick  wealth  that  way,  Ramsay,  an  you 
have  courage  to  go  to  the  north.    An  it  were 

39 


HERALDS    OF    EMPIRE 

not  for  Hortense,  I'd  hire  that  young  rapscal- 
lion of  a  Gillam  to  take  me  north." 

I  caught  his  drift,  and  had  to  tell  him 
that  I  meant  to  tr^-  my  fortune  in  the  English 
court. 

But  he  paid  small  heed  to  what  I  said,  gaz- 
ing absently  at  the  creatures  in  the  jars. 

*'  'Twould  be  devilish  dangerous  for  a  girl," 
he  muttered,  pulling  fiercely  at  his  mustache. 

"  Do  you  mean  the  court,  sir?  "  I  asked. 

"  Aye,"  returned  the  doctor  with  a  dry  laugh 
that  meant  the  opposite  of  his  words.  ''  An  you 
incline  to  the  court,  learn  the  tricks  o'  the  foils, 
or  rogues  will  slit  both  purse  and  throat." 

And  all  the  while  he  was  smiling  as  though 
my  going  to  the  court  were  an  odd  notion. 

"  If  I  could  but  find  a  master,"  I  lamented. 

''  Come  to  me  of  an  evening,"  says  M.  Picot. 
"  I'll  teach  you,  and  you  can  tell  me  of  the  fur 
trade." 

You  may  be  sure  I  went  as  often  as  ever  I 
could.  M.  Picot  took  me  upstairs  to  a  sort  of 
hunting  room.  It  had  a  great  many  ponderous 
oak  pieces  carv^ed  after  the  Flemish  pattern  and 
a  few  little  bandy-legged  chairs  and  gilded  tables 
with  courtly  scenes  painted  on  top,  which  he 
said  Mistress  Hortense  had  brought  back  as  of 
the   latest    French   fashion.     The   blackamoor 

40 


TOUCHING   WITCHCRAFT 

drew  close  the  iron  shutters;  for,  though  those 
in  the  world  must  know  the  ways  of  the  world, 
worldHng  practices  were  a  sad  offence  to  New 
England.  Shoving  the  furnishings  aside,  M. 
Picot  picked  from  the  armory  rack  two  slim 
foils  resembling  Spanish  rapiers  and  prepared  to 
give  me  my  lesson.  Carte  and  tierce,  low  carte 
and  flanconnade,  he  taught  me  with  many  a 
ringing  clash  of  steel  till  beads  were  dripping 
from  our  brows  like  rain-drops. 

''Bravo!"  shouted  M.  Picot  in  a  pause. 
''  Are  you  son  o'  the  Stanhope  that  fought  on 
the  king's  side?  " 

I  said  that  I  was. 

''  I  knew  the  rascal  that  got  the  estate  from 
the  king,"  says  M.  Picot,  with  a  curious  look 
from  Hortense  to  me;  and  he  told  me  of  Blood, 
the  freebooter,  who  stole  the  king's  crown  but 
won  royal  favour  by  his  bravado  and  entered 
court  service  for  the  doing  of  deeds  that  bore 
not  the  light  of  day. 

Nightly  I  went  to  the  French  doctor's  house, 
and  I  learned  every  wicked  trick  of  thrust  and 
parry  that  M.  Picot  knew.  Once  when  I  bun- 
gled a  foul  lunge,  which  M.  Picot  said  was  a 
habit  of  the  infamous  Blood,  his  weapon  touched 
my  chest,  and  Mistress  Hortense  uttered  a  sharp 
cry. 

41 


HERALDS   OF   EMPIRE 

"What — what — what!"  exclaims  M.  Picot, 
whirHng  on  her. 

"  Twas  so  real,"  murmurs  Hortense,  biting 
her  lip. 

After  that  she  sat  still  enough.  Then  the 
steel  was  exchanged  for  cards;  and  when  I  lost 
too  steadily  M.  Picot  broke  out:  '*  Pish,  boy, 
your  luck  fails  here!  Hillary,  child,  go  practise 
thy  songs  on  the  spinet." 

Or:  ''  Hortense,  go  mull  us  a  smack  o* 
wine! " 

Or:  "Ha,  ha,  little  witch!  Up  yet?  Late 
hours  make  old  ladies." 

And  Hortense  must  go  ofif,  so  that  I  never 
saw  her  alone  but  once.  'Twas  the  night  before 
I  was  to  leave  for  the  trade. 

The  blackamoor  appeared  to  say  that  De- 
liverance Dobbins  was  "  a-goin'  in  fits  "  on  the 
dispensary  floor. 

"  Faith,  doctor,"  said  I,  "  she  used  to  have 
dumps  on  our  turnstile." 

"  Yes,"  laughed  Hortense,  "  small  wonder 
she  had  dumps  on  that  turnstile!  Ramsay  used 
to  tilt  her  backward." 

M.  Picot  hastened  away,  laughing.  Hor- 
tense was  in  a  great  carved  high-back  chair  with 
clumsy,  wooden  cupids  floundering  all  about  the 
tall  head-rest.    Her  face  was  alight  in  soft-hued 

42 


V 


TOUCHING   WITCHCRAFT 

crimson  flaming  from  an  Arabian  cresset  stuck 
in  sockets  against  the  Flemish  cabinet. 

''  A  child's  trick,"  began  Hortense,  catching 
at  the  shafts  of  light. 

*'  I  often  think  of  those  old  days  on  the 
beach." 

*'  So  do  I,"  said  Hortense. 

"  I  wish  they  could  come  back." 

*'  So  do  I,"  smiled  Hortense.  Then,  as  if  to 
check  more:  '*  I  suppose,  Ramsay,  you  would 
want  to  drown  us  all — Ben  and  Jack  and  Re- 
becca and  me." 

"  And  I  suppose  you  would  want  to  stand 
us  all  on  our  heads,"  I  retorted. 

Then  we  both  laughed,  and  Hortense  de- 
manded if  I  had  as  much  skill  with  the  lyre  as 
with  the  sword.  She  had  heard  that  I  was  much 
given  to  chanting  vain  airs  and  wanton  songs, 
she  said. 

And  this  is  what  I  sang,  with  a  heart  that 
knocked  to  the  notes  of  the  old  madrigal  like 
the  precentor's  tuning-fork  to  a  meeting-house 
psalm: 

"  Lady,  when  I  behold  the  roses  sprouting, 

Which,  clad  in  damask  mantles,  deck  the  arbours, 
And  then  behold  your  lips  where  sweet  love  harbours. 
My  eyes  perplex  me  with  a  double  doubting, 
Whether  the  roses  be  your  lips,  or  your  lips  the  roses." 

4  43 


HERALDS   OF   EMPIRE 

Barely  had  I  finished  when  Mistress  Hor- 
tense  seats  herself  at  the  spinet,  and,  changing 
the  words  to  suit  her  saucy  fancy,  trills  off  that 
ballad  but  newly  writ  by  one  of  our  English 
courtiers: 

"  Shall  I,  wasting  in  despair, 
Die  because — Rebecca  s — fair  ? 
Or  make  pale  my  cheeks  with  care 
'Cause  Rebecca  s  rosier  are?  " 

*'Hortense!"  I  protested. 

'•  Be  -^^  fairer  than  the  day 
Or  the  June-field  coils  of  hay; 
If  he  be  not  so  to  me. 
What  care  I  \iQ)\\  fine  he  be  ?  " 

There  was  such  merriment  in  the  dark- 
lashed  eyes,  I  defy  Eli  Kirke  himself  to  have 
taken  offence;  and  so,  like  many  another  youth, 
I  was  all  too  ready  to  be  the  pipe  on  which 
a  dainty  lady  played  her  stops.  As  the  song 
faded  to  the  last  tinkling  notes  of  the  spinet 
her  fingers  took  to  touching  low,  tuneless  melo- 
dies Hke  thoughts  creeping  into  thoughts,  or 
perfume  of  flowers  in  the  dark.  The  melting 
airs  slipped  into  silence,  and  Hortense  shut  her 
eyes,  "  to  get  the  memory  of  it,"  she  said.  I 
thought  she  meant  some  new-fangled  tune. 

"  This  is  memory  enough  for  me,"  said  I. 

"  Oh?  "  asked  Hortense,  and  she  uncovered 

44 


TOUCHING   WITCHCRAFT 

all  the  blaze  of  the  dark  lights  hid  in  those 
eyes. 

''  Faith,  Hortense,"  I  answered,  like  a 
moth  gone  giddy  in  flame,  "  your  naughty  mu- 
sic wakes  echoes  of  what  souls  must  hear  in 
paradise." 

''  Then  it  isn't  naughty,"  said  Hortense,  be- 
ginning to  play  fiercely,  striking  false  notes  and 
discords  and  things. 

*'  Hortense,"  said  I. 

"No — Ramsay!"  cried  Hortense,  jangling 
harder  than  ever. 

"  But — yes!— Hortense " 

And  in  bustled  M.  Picot,  hastier  than  need, 
methought. 

"What,  Hillary?  Not  a-bed  yet,  child? 
Ha! — crow's-feet  under  eyes  to-morrow!  Bed, 
little  baggage!  Forget  not  thy  prayers!  Pish! 
Pish!    Good-night!    Good-night!" 

That  is  the  way  an  older  man  takes  it. 

"  Now,  devil  fly  away  with  that  prying 
wench  of  a  Deliverance  Dobbins!"  ejaculated 
M.  Picot,  stamping  about.  "  Oh,  I'll  cure  her 
fanciful  fits!  Pish!  Pish!  That  frump  and  her 
fits!  Bad  blood,  Ramsay;  low-bred,  low-bred! 
'Tis  ever  the  way  of  her  kind  to  blab  of  aches 
and  stuffed  stomachs  that  were  well  if  left  empty. 
An  she  come  prying  into  my  chemicals,  taking 

45 


HERALDS   OF   EMPIRE 

fits  when  she's  caught,  I'll  mix  her  a  pill  o'  De- 
liverance!" And  M.  Picot  laughed  heartily  at 
his  own  joke. 

The  next  morning  I  was  off  to  the  trade. 
Though  I  hardly  acknowledged  the  reason  to 
myself,  any  youth  can  guess  why  I  made  excuse 
to  come  back  soon.  As  I  rode  up,  Rebecca 
stood  at  our  gate.  She  had  no  smile.  Had  I 
not  been  thinking  of  another,  I  had  noticed  the 
sadness  of  her  face;  but  when  she  moved  back 
a  pace,  I  flung  out  some  foolishness  about  a 
gate  being  no  bar  if  one  had  a  mind  to  jump. 
Then  she  brought  me  sharp  to  my  senses  as  I 
sprang  to  the  ground. 

"  Ramsay,"  she  exclaimed,  "  M.  Picot  and 
Mistress  Hortense  are  in  jail  charged  with  sor- 
cery! M.  Picot  is  like  to  be  hanged!  An  they 
do  not  confess,  they  may  be  set  in  the  bilboes 
and  whipped.  There  is  talk  of  putting  Mistress 
Hortense  to  the  test." 

"The  test!" 

'Twas  as  if  a  great  weight  struck  away  power 
to  think,  for  the  test  meant  neither  more  nor 
less  than  torture  till  confession  were  wrung  from 
agony.  The  night  went  black  and  Rebecca's 
voice  came  as  from  some  far  place. 

''  Ramsay,  you  are  hurting — you  are  crush- 
ing my  hands!  " 

46 


TOUCHING   WITCHCRAFT 

Poor  child,  she  was  crying;  and  the  words  I 
would  have  said  stuck  fast  behind  sealed  lips. 
She  seemed  to  understand,  for  she  went  on: 

"  Deliverance  Dobbins  saw  strange  things 
in  his  house.  She  went  to  spy.  He  hath  crazed 
her  intellectuals.     She  hath  dumb  fits.'' 

Now  I  understood.  This  trouble  was  the 
result  of  M.  Picot's  threat;  but  little  Rebecca's 
voice  was  tinkling  on  like  a  bell  in  a  dome. 

"  My  father  hath  the  key  to  their  ward.  My 
father  saith  there  is  like  to  be  trouble  if  they 
do  not  confess " 

"Confess!"  I  broke  out.  "Confess  what? 
If  they  confess  the  lie  they  will  be  burned  for 
witchcraft.  And  if  they  refuse  to  confess,  they 
will  be  hanged  for  not  telling  the  lie.  Pretty 
justice!  And  your  holy  men  fined  one  fellow  a 
hundred  pounds  for  calling  their  justices  a  pack 
of  jackasses " 

"  Sentence  is  to  be  pronounced  to-morrow 
after  communion,"  said  Rebecca. 

"  After  communion?  "  I  could  say  no  more. 
On  that  of  all  days  for  tyranny's  crime! 

God  forgive  me  for  despairing  of  mankind 
that  night.  I  thought  freedom  had  been  won 
in  the  Commonwealth  war,  but  that  was  only 
freedom  of  body.  A  greater  strife  was  to  wage 
for  freedom  of  soul. 

47 


CHAPTER    IV 

REBECCA   AND   JACK   BATTLE    CONSPIRE 

'TwAS  cockcrow  when  I  left  pacing  the 
shore  where  we  had  so  often  played  in  child- 
hood; and  through  the  darkness  came  the  howl 
of  M.  Picot's  hound,  scratching  outside  the 
prison  gate. 

As  well  reason  with  maniacs  as  fanatics,  say 
I,  for  they  hide  as  much  folly  under  the  mask 
of  conscience  as  ever  court  fool  wore  'neath 
painted  face.  There  was  Mr.  Stocking,  as  well- 
meaning  a  man  as  trod  earth,  obdurate  beyond 
persuasion  against  poor  M.  Picot  under  his 
charge.  Might  I  not  speak  to  the  French  doc- 
tor through  the  bars  of  his  window?  By  no 
means,  Mr.  Stocking  assured.  If  once  the  great 
door  were  unlocked,  who  could  tell  what  black 
arts  a  sorcerer  might  use? 

"  Look  you,  Ramsay  lad,"  says  he,  "  I've 
had  this  brass  key  made  against  his  witchcraft, 
and  I  do  not  trust  it  to  the  hands  of  the  jailer." 

Then,  I  fear,  I  pleaded  too  keenly;  for,  sus- 

48 


REBECCA   AND   JACK    CONSPIRE 

pecting  collusion  with  M.  Picot,  the  warden  of 
the  court-house  grew  frigid  and  bade  me  ask 
Eli  Kirke's  opinion  on  witchcraft. 

"  *  Thou  shalt  not  sufifer  a  witch  to  live/  '* 
rasped  Eli  Kirke,  his  stern  eyes  ablaze  from  an 
inner  fire.  "  'A  man  also,  or  woman,  that  hath 
a  familiar  spirit,  or  that  is  a  wizard,  shall  surely 
be  put  to  death.'  Think  you  M.  Picot  burns 
incense  to  the  serpent  in  his  jars  for  the  healing 
of  mankind? "  he  demanded  fiercely. 

"Yes,"  said  I,  "'tis  for  the  healing  of 
mankind  by  experimentation  wdth  chemicals. 
Knowledge  of  God  nor  chemicals  springs  full 
grown  from  man's  head,  Uncle  Eli.  Both  must 
be  learned.  That  is  all  the  meaning  of  his  jars 
and  crucibles.  He  is  only  tr>dng  to  learn  what 
laws  God  ordained  among  materials.  And  when 
M.  Picot  makes  mistakes,  it  is  the  same  as  when 
the  Church  makes  mistakes  and  learns  wisdom 
by  blunders." 

Eli  Kirke  blinked  his  eyes  as  though  my 
monstrous  pleadings  dazed  him. 

"  '  Thou  shalt  not  suffer  a  witch  to  live,'  "  he 
cried  doggedly.  "  Do  the  Scriptures  He,  Ram- 
say Stanhope?    Tell  me  that?  " 

"  No,"  said  I.  "  The  Scriptures  condemn 
liars,  and  the  man  who  pretends  witchcraft  is  a 
liar.     There's  no  such  thing.     That  is  why  the 

49 


HERALDS    OF    EMPIRE 

Scriptures  command  burning."  I  paused.  He 
made  no  answer,  and  I  pleaded  on. 

"  But  M.  Picot  denies  witchcraft,  and  you 
would  burn  him  for  not  lying." 

Never  think  to  gain  a  stubborn  antagonist 
by  partial  concession.  M.  Radisson  used  to  say 
if  you  give  an  enemy  an  inch  he  will  claim  an  ell. 

'Twas  so  with  Eli  Kirke,  for  he  leaped  to  his 
feet  in  a  fine  frenzy  and  bade  me  cease  juggling 
Holy  Writ. 

"  '  Thou  shalt  not  suffer  a  witch  to  live,'  "  he 
shouted.  "Tis  abomination!  It  shall  utterly 
be  put  away  from  you!  Because  of  this  hidden 
iniquity  the  colony  hath  fallen  on  evil  days.  Let 
it  perish  root  and  branch!  " 

But  Tibbie  breaks  in  upon  his  declamation  by 
throwing  wide  the  library  door,  and  in  marches  a 
line  of  pale-faced  ascetics,  rigid  of  jaw,  cold  of 
eye,  and  exalted  with  that  gloomy  fervour  which 
counts  burning  life's  highest  joy.  Among  them 
was  the  famous  witch-hanger  of  after  years,  a 
mere  youth  then,  but  about  his  lips  the  hard 
lines  of  a  spiritual  zeal  scarce  differing  from 
pride. 

"  God  was  awakening  the  churches  by  mar- 
vellous signs,"  said  one,  extending  a  lank,  cold 
hand  to  salute  Eli  Kirke. 

"  Have  we  not  wrestled  mightily  for  signs 

50 


REBECCA   AND   JACK   CONSPIRE 

and  wonders?  "  demanded  another  with  jaw  of 
steel.  And  one  description  of  the  generation 
seeking  signs  was  all  but  off  the  tip  of  my 
tongue. 

"  Some  aver  there  be  no  witches — so  fear- 
fully hath  error  gone  abroad,"  lamented  young 
Mather,  keen  to  be  heard  then,  as  he  always 
was.  ''  Brethren,  toleration  would  make  a  king- 
dom of  chaos,  a  Sodom,  a  Gomorrah,  a  Baby- 
lon!" 

Faith,  it  needed  no  horoscope  to  forecast 
that  young  divine's  dark  future! 

I  stood  it  as  long  as  I  could,  with  palms 
itching  to  knock  their  solemn  heads  together 
like  so  many  bowling  balls;  but  when  one  cadav- 
erous-faced fellow,  whose  sanctity  had  gone  bil- 
ious from  lack  of  sunshine,  whined  out  against 
"  the  saucy  miss,"  meaning  thereby  Mistress 
Hortense,  and  another  prayed  Heaven  through 
his  nose  that  his  daughter  might  "  lie  in  her 
grave  ere  she  minced  her  steps  with  such  dis- 
soluteness of  hair  and  unseemly  broideries  and 
bright  colours,  showing  the  lightness  of  her 
mind,"  and  a  third  averred  that  "  a  cucking-stool 
would  teach  a  maid  to  walk  more  shamefaced- 
ly," I  whirled  upon  them  in  a  fury  that  had 
disinherited  me  from  Eli  Kirke's  graces  ere  I 
spake  ten  words. 

51 


HERALDS   OF   EMPIRE 

"  Sirs,"  said  I,  "  your  slatternly  wenches 
may  be  dead  ere  they  match  Mistress  Hortense! 
As  for  wearing  light  colours,  the  devil  himself 
is  painted  black.  Let  them  who  are  doing 
shameful  acts  to  the  innocent  walk  shamefaced- 
ly! For  shame,  sirs,  to  cloak  malice  and  jeal- 
ousy of  M.  Picot  under  reHgion!  New  England 
will  remember  this  blot  against  you  and  curse 
you  for  it!  An  you  listen  to  Deliverance  Dob- 
bins's  lies,  what  hinders  any  lying  wench  sending 
good  men  to  the  scaffold?  " 

At  first  they  listened  agape,  but  now  the  hot 
blood  rushed  to  their  faces. 

"  Hold  thy  tongue,  lad!  "  roared  Eli  Kirke. 
Then,  as  if  to  atone  for  that  violence:  ''The 
Lord  rebuke  thee,"  he  added  solemly. 

And  I  flung  from  the  house  dumb  with  im- 
potent rage. 

My  thoughts  were  as  the  snatched  sleep  of 
a  sick  man's  dreams.  Again  the  hideous  night- 
mare of  the  old  martyr  at  the  shambles;  but 
now  the  shambles  were  in  the  New  World  and 
the  martyr  was  M.  Picot.  Something  cold 
touched  my  hand  through  the  dark,  and  there 
crouched  M.  Picot's  hound,  whining  for  its  mas- 
ter. Automatically  I  followed  across  the  com- 
mons to  the  court-house  square.  It  stopped  at 
the  prison  gate,  snifBng  and  whining  and  beg- 

52 


REBECCA   AND   JACK   CONSPIRE 

ging  in.  Poor  dog!  What  could  I  do?  I  tried 
to  coax  it  away,  but  it  lay  at  the  wall  like  a 
stone. 

Of  the  long  service  in  the  new-built  meet- 
ing-house I  remember  very  little.  Beat  of 
drums,  not  bells,  called  to  church  in  those  days, 
and  the  beat  was  to  me  as  a  funeral  march. 
The  pale  face  of  the  preacher  in  the  high  pul- 
pit overtowering  us  all  was  alight  with  stern 
zeal.  The  elders,  sitting  in  a  row  below  the  pul- 
pit facing  us,  listened  to  the  fierce  diatribe 
against  the  dark  arts  w^ith  looks  of  approbation 
that  boded  ill  for  M.  Picot;  and  at  every  fresh 
fusillade  of  texts  to  bolster  his  argument,  the 
line  of  deacons  below  the  elders  glanced  back  at 
the  preacher  approvingly.  Rebecca  sat  on  that 
side  of  the  congregation  assigned  to  the  women 
with  a  dumb  look  of  sympathy  on  the  sweet 
hooded  face.  The  prisoners  were  not  present.  At 
the  end  of  the  service  the  preacher  paused;  and 
there  fell  a  great  hush  in  which  men  scarce 
breathed,  for  sentence  was  to  be  pronounced. 
But  the  preacher  only  announced  that  before 
handing  the  case  to  the  civil  court  of  oyer  and 
terminer  for  judgment,  the  elders  wished  to  hold 
it  in  meditation  for  another  day. 

The  singing  of  the  dismissal  psalm  began 
and  a  smothered  cry  seemed  to  break  from  Re- 

53 


HERALDS   OF   EMPIRE 

becca's  pew.  Then  the  preacher  had  raised  his 
hands  above  bowed  heads.  The  service  was 
over.  The  people  crowded  solemnly  out,  and 
I  was  left  alone  in  the  gathering  darkness — alone 
with  the  ghosts  of  youth's  illusions  mocking 
from  the  gloom.  Religion,  then,  did  not  always 
mean  right !  There  were  tyrants  of  souls  as  well 
as  tyrants  of  sword.  Prayers  were  uttered  that 
were  fitter  for  hearing  in  hell  than  in  Heaven. 
Good  men  could  deceive  themselves  into  crime 
cloaking  spiritual  maUce,  sect  jealousy,  race  ha- 
tred with  an  unctuous  text.  Here,  in  New  Eng- 
land, where  men  had  come  for  freedom,  was  tyr- 
anny masking  in  the  guise  of  religion.  Preach- 
ers as  jealous  of  the  power  slipping  from  their 
hands  as  ever  was  primate  of  England!  A  poor 
gentleman  hounded  to  his  death  because  he 
practised  the  sciences!  Millions  of  victims  all 
the  world  over  burned  for  witchcraft,  sacrificed 
to  a  Moloch  of  superstition  in  the  name  of  a 
Christ  who  came  to  let  in  the  light  of  knowl- 
edge on  all  superstition! 

Could  I  have  found  a  wilderness  where  was 
no  human  face,  I  think  I  had  fled  to  it  that 
night.  And,  indeed,  when  you  come  to  think 
of  my  breaking  with  Eli  Kirke,  'twas  the  witch 
trial  that  drove  me  to  the  wilderness. 

There  was  yet  a  respite.     But  the  Church 

54 


REBECCA   AND   JACK    CONSPIRE 

still  dominated  the  civil  courts,  and  a  transfer 
of  the  case  meant  that  the  Church  would  throw 
the  onus  of  executing  sentence  on  those  lay 
figures  who  were  the  puppets  of  a  Pharisaical 
oligarchy. 

There  was  no  time  to  appeal  to  England. 
There  was  no  chance  of  sudden  rescue.  New 
England  had  not  the  stuff  of  which  mobs  are 
made. 

I  thought  of  appealing  to  the  mercy  of  the 
judges;  but  what  mercy  had  EH  Kirke  received 
at  the  hands  of  royalists  that  he  should  be  mer- 
ciful to  them? 

I  thought  of  firing  the  prison;  but  the  walls 
were  stone,  and  the  night  wet,  and  the  outcome 
doubtful. 

I  thought  of  the  cell  window;  but  if  there 
had  been  any  hope  that  way,  M.  Picot  had 
worked  an  escape. 

Bowing  my  head  to  think — to  pray — to  im- 
precate, I  lost  all  sense  of  time  and  place. 

Some  one  had  slipped  quietly  into  the  dark 
of  the  church.  I  felt  rather  than  saw  a  nearing 
presence.  But  I  paid  no  heed,  for  despair  blot- 
ted out  all  thought.  Whoever  it  was  came  feel- 
ing a  way  down  the  dark  aisle. 

Then  hot  tears  fell  upon  my  hands.  In  the 
gloom  there  paused  a  childlike  figure. 

55 


HERALDS   OF    EMPIRE 

"Rebecca!" 

She  panted  out  a  wordless  cry.  Then  she 
came  closer  and  laid  a  hand  on  my  arm.  She 
was  struggling  to  subdue  sobs.  The  question 
came  in  a  shivering  breath. 

"  Is  Hortense — so  dear?  " 

"  So  dear,  Rebecca." 

"She  must  be  wondrous  happy,  Ramsay." 
A  tumult  of  effort.  "  If  I  could  only  take  her 
place " 

"  Take  her  place,  Rebecca?  " 

"  My  father  hath  the  key— if— if— if  I  took 
her  place,  she  might  go  free." 

"  Take  her  place,  child!  What  folly  is  this— 
dear,  kind  Rebecca?  Would  't  be  any  better  to 
send  you  to  the  rope  than  Hortense?  No — no 
—dear  child!" 

At  that  her  agitation  abated,  and  she  puz- 
zled as  if  to  say  more. 

"  Dear  Rebecca,"  said  I,  comforting  her  as 
I  would  a  sister,  "  dear  child,  run  home.  For- 
get not  little  Hortense  in  thy  prayers." 

May  the  angel  of  forgiveness  spread  a  broad- 
er mantle  across  our  blunders  than  our  sins,  but 
could  I  have  said  worse? 

"  I  have  cooked  dainties  with  my  own  hands. 
I  have  sent  her  cakes  every  day,"  sobbed  Re- 
becca. 

56 


REBECCA   AND   JACK   CONSPIRE 

''  Go  home  now,  Rebecca,"  I  begged. 

But  she  stood  silent. 

''  Rebecca— what  is  it?  " 

"  You  have  not  been  to  see  me  for  a  year, 
Ramsay." 

I  could  scarce  believe  my  ears. 

"  My  father  is  away  to-night.  Will  you  not 
come?  " 

''  But,  Rebecca " 

"  I  have  never  asked  a  thing  of  you  before." 

"  But,  Rebecca " 

"  Will  you  come  for  Hortense's  sake?  "  she 
interrupted,  with  a  little  sharp,  hard,  falsetto 
note  in  her  baby  voice. 

"  Rebecca,"  I  demanded,  ''  what  do  you 
mean?  " 

But  she  snapped  back  like  the  peevish  child 
that  she  was:  ''An  you  come  not  when  I  ask 
you,  you  may  stay!  "    And  she  had  gone. 

What  was  she  trying  to  say  with  her  dark 
hints  and  overnice  scruples  of  a  Puritan  con- 
science? And  was  not  that  Jack  Battle  greeting 
her  outside  in  the  dark? 

I  tore  after  Rebecca  at  such  speed  that  I  had 
cannoned  into  open  arms  before  I  saw  a  hulking 
form  across  the  way. 

"Fall-back— fall-edge!"  roared  Jack,  clos- 
ing his  arms  about  me.    "  Tis  Ramsay  himself, 

57 


HERALDS   OF   EMPIRE 

with  a  sword  like  a  butcher's  cleaver  and  a  wit 
like  abroadaxe!  " 

"  Have  you  not  heard,  Jack?  " 

"  Heard!  Ship  ahoy!  "  cried  Jack.  "  Split 
me  to  the  chin  like  a  cod!  Stood  I  not  abaft 
of  you  all  day  long,  packed  like  a  herring  in  a 
pickle!  'Twas  a  pretty  kettle  of  fish  in  your 
Noah's  ark  to-day!  'Tis  all  along  o'  goodness 
gone  stale  from  too  much  salt,"  says  Jack. 

I  told  him  of  little  Rebecca,  and  asked  what 
he  made  of  it.  He  said  he  made  of  it  that  fools 
didn't  love  in  the  right  place — which  was  not  to 
the  point,  whatever  Jack  thought  of  Rebecca. 
Linking  his  arm  through  mine,  he  headed  me 
about. 

"  Captain  Gillam,  Ben's  father,  sails  for  Eng- 
land at  sunrise,"  vouched  Jack. 

"  What  has  that  to  do  with  Mistress  Hor- 
tense?  "  I  returned  testily. 

"  'Tis  a  swift  ship  to  sail  in." 

"  To  sail  in.  Jack  Battle?  "—I  caught  at  the 
hope.     "  Out  with  your  plan,  man!  " 

''  And  be  hanged  for  it,"  snaps  Jack,  falling 
silent. 

We  were  opposite  the  prison.  He  pointed 
to  a  light  behind  the  bars. 

"  They  are  the  only  prisoners,"  he  said, 
"  They  must  be  in  there." 

S8 


REBECCA   AND   JACK   CONSPIRE 

"  One  could  pass  a  note  through  those  bars 
with  a  long  pole,"  I  observed,  gazing  over  the 
yard  wall. 

"  Or  a  key,"  answered  Jack. 

He  paused  before  Rebecca's  house  to  the  left 
of  the  prison. 

*'  Ramsay,"  inquired  Jack  quizzically,  "  do 
you  happen  to  have  heard  who  has  the  keys?  " 

"  Rebecca's  father  is  warden." 

"  And  Rebecca's  father  is  from  home  to- 
night," says  he,  facing  me  squarely  to  the  lan- 
tern above  the  door. 

How  did  he  know  that?  Then  I  remem- 
bered the  voices  outside  the  church. 

"  Jack — what  did  Rebecca  mean " 

"  Not  to  be  hanged,"  interrupts  Jack.  "  'Tis 
all  along  o'  having  too  much  conscience,  Ram- 
say. They  must  either  lie  like  a  Dutchman  and 
be  damned,  or  tell  the  truth  and  be  hanged. 
Now,  ship  ahoy,"  says  he,  ''  to  the  quarter- 
deck! "  and  he  flung  me  forcibly  up  the  steps. 

Rebecca,  herself,  red-eyed  and  reserved, 
threw  wide  the  door.  She  motioned  me  to  a 
bench  seat  opposite  the  fireplace  and  fastened 
her  gaze  above  the  mantel  till  mine  followed 
there  too.  A  bunch  of  keys  hung  from  an  iron 
rack. 

"What  are  those,  Rebecca?" 
5  59 


HERALDS   OF    EMPIRE 

"  The  largest  is  for  the  gate,"  says  she  with 
the  panic  of  conscience  running  from  fire.  "  The 
brass  one  unlocks  the  great  door,  and — and — 
the — M.  Picot's  cell  unbolts,"  she  stammered. 

**  May  I  examine  them,  Rebecca?  " 

"  I  will  even  draw  you  a  pint  of  cider,"  says 
Rebecca  evasively,  with  great  trepidation,  *'  but 
come  back  soon,"  she  called,  tripping  off  to  the 
wine-cellar  door. 

Snatching  the  keys,  I  was  down  the  steps 
at  a  leap. 

"The  large  one  for  the  gate.  Jack!  The 
brass  one  for  the  big  door,  and  the  cell  un- 
bolts!" 

"  Ease  your  helm,  sonny!  "  says  Jack,  catch- 
ing the  bunch  from  my  clasp.  *'  Fall-back — fall- 
edge!"  he  laughed  in  that  awful  mockery  of 
the  axeman's  block.  ''  Fall-back — fall-edge!  If 
there's  any  hacking  of  necks,  mine  is  thicker 
than  yours!  I'll  run  the  risks.  Do  you  wait 
here  in  shadow." 

And  he  darted  away.  The  gate  creaked  as 
it  gave. 

Then  I  waited  for  what  seemed  eternity. 

A  night-watchman  shufifled  along  with  swing- 
ing lantern,  calling  out:  ''What  ho?  What 
ho?  "  Townsfolks  rode  through  the  streets  with 
a  clatter  of  the  chairmen's  feet;  but  no  words 

60 


REBECCA   AND   JACK    CONSPIRE 

were  bandied  by  the  fellows,  for  a  Sabbath  hush 
lay  over  the  night.  A  great  hackney-coach  nigh 
mired  in  mud  as  it  lumbered  through  mid-road. 
And  M.  Picot's  hound  came  snififing  hungrily 
to  me. 

A  glare  of  light  shot  aslant  the  dark.  Softly 
the  door  of  Rebecca's  house  opened.  A  frail 
figure  was  silhouetted  against  the  ligh't.  The 
wick  above  snufYed  out.  The  figure  drew  in 
without  a  single  look,  leaving  the  door  ajar.  But 
an  hour  ago,  the  iron  righteousness  of  bigots 
had  filled  my  soul  with  revolt.  Now  the  sight 
of  that  Httle  Puritan  maid  brought  prayers  to 
my  lips  and  a  Te  Deum  to  my  soul. 

The  prison  gate  swung  open  again  with  rusty 
protest.  Two  hooded  figures  slipped  through 
the  dark.  Jack  Battle  had  locked  the  gate  and 
the  keys  were  in  my  hand. 

''  Take  them  back,"  he  gurgled  out  with 
school-lad  glee.  ''  'Twill  be  a  pretty  to-do  of 
witchcraft  to-morrow  when  they  find  a  cell  emp- 
ty. Go  hire  passage  to  England  in  Captain  Gil- 
lam's  boat!" 

'' Captain  Gillam's  boat?" 

''  Yes,  or  Master  Ben's  pirate-ship  of  the 
north,  if  she's  there,"  and  he  had  dashed  off  in 
the  dark. 

When  Rebecca  appeared  above  the  cellar- 

6i 


HERALDS    OF    EMPIRE 

way  with  a  flagon  that  reamed  to  a  beaded  top, 
the  keys  were  back  on  the  wall. 

''  I  was  overlong,"  panted  Rebecca,  with 
eyes  averted  as  of  old  to  the  folds  of  her  white 
stomacher.  ''  'Twas  a  stubborn  bung  and  hard 
to  draw." 

*' Dear  little  cheat!  God  bless  you! — and 
bless  you! — and  bless  you,  Rebecca!"  I  cried. 
At  which  the  poor  child  took  fright. 

''  It — it — it  was  not  all  a  lie,  Ramsay,"  she 
stammered.  ''  The  bung  was  hard — and — and 
— and  I  didn't  hasten " 

''  Dear  comrade — good-bye,  forever! "  I 
called  from  the  dark  of  the  step. 

''  Forever?  "  asked  the  faint  voice  of  a  for- 
lorn figure  black  in  the  doorway. 

Dear,  snowy,  self-sacrificing  spirit — 'tis  my 
clearest  memory  of  her  with  the  thin,  grieved 
voice  coming  through  the  dark. 

I  ran  to  the  wharf  hard  as  ever  heels  nerved 
by  fear  and  joy  and  triumph  and  love  could  carry 
me.  The  passage  I  easily  engaged  from  the 
ship's  mate,  who  dinned  into  my  unlistening 
ears  full  account  of  the  north  sea,  whither  Cap- 
tain Gillam  was  to  go  for  the  Fur  Company,  and 
whither,  too,  ]\Iaster  Ben  was  keen  to  sail,  ''  a 
pirateer,  along  o'  his  own  risk  and  gain,"  ex- 
plained the  mate  with  a  wink,  "  pirateer  or  pri- 

62 


REBECCA   AND   JACK   CONSPIRE 

vateer,  call  'em  what  you  will,  Mister;  the  Susan 
with  white  sails  in  Boston  Town,  and  Le  Bon 
Gargon  with  sails  black  as  the  devil  himself  up 
in  Quebec,  ha — ha — and  I'll  give  ye  odds  on  it, 
Mister,  the  devil  himself  don't  catch  Master 
Ben!  Why,  bless  you,  gentlemen,  who's  to  jail 
*im  here  for  droppin'  Spanish  gold  in  his  own 
hold  and  poachin'  furs  on  the  king's  preserve 
o'  the  north  sea,  when  Stocking,  the  warden, 
'imself  owns  'alf  the  Susan  and  Cap'en  Gillam, 
'is  father,  is  master  o'  the  king's  ship?  " 

"  They  do  say,"  he  babbled  on,  ''  now  that 
Radisson,  the  French  jack-a-boots,  hath  given 
the  slip  to  the  King's  Company,  he  sails  from 
Quebec  in  ship  o'  his  own.  If  him  and  Ben  and 
the  Capiten  meet  —  oh,  there'll  be  times  1 
There'll  be  times!  " 

And  ''times"  there  were  sure  enough;  but 
of  that  I  had  then  small  care  and  shook  the  lo- 
quacious rascal  off  so  that  he  left  me  in  peace. 

First  came  the  servants,  trundling  cart-loads 
of  cases,  which  passed  unnoticed;  for  the  town 
bell  had  tolled  the  close  of  Sabbath,  and  Mon- 
day shipping  had  begun. 

The  cusp  of  a  watery  moon  faded  in  the  gray 
dawn  streaks  of  a  muffled  sky,  and  at  last  came 
the  chairmen,  with  Jack  running  alert. 

From  the  chairs  stepped  the  blackamoor, 

63 


HERALDS    OF   EMPIRE 

painted  as  white  as  paste.  Then  a  New  Amster- 
dam gentleman  sUpped  out  from  the  curtains, 
followed  by  his  page-boy  and  servants. 

'*  Jack,"  I  asked,  "  where  is  Hortense?  " 

The  page  glanced  from  under  curls. 

"  Dear  Jack,"  she  whispered,  standing  high 
on  her  heels  nigh  as  tall  as  the  sailor  lad.  And 
poor  Jack  Battle,  not  knowing  how  to  play 
down,  stood  blushing,  cap  in  hand,  till  she 
laughed  a  queer  little  laugh  and,  bidding  him 
good-bye,  told  him  to  remember  that  she  had 
the  squirrel  stuffed. 

To  me  she  said  no  word.  Her  hand  touched 
mine  quick  farewell.    The  long  lashes  lifted. 

There  was  a  look  on  her  face. 

I  ask  no  greater  joy  in  Paradise  than  mem- 
ory of  that  look. 

One  lone,  gray  star  hung  over  the  masthead. 
The  ship  careened  across  the  billows  till  star  and 
mast-top  met. 

Jack  fetched  a  deep  sigh. 

"  There  be  work  for  sailors  in  England,"  he 
said. 

In  a  flash  I  thought  that  I  knew  what  he 
had  meant  by  fools  not  loving  in  the  right  place. 

"That  were  folly,  Jack!  She  hath  her  sta- 
tion!" 

64 


REBECCA   AND   JACK   CONSPIRE 

Jack  Battle  pointed  to  the  fading  steel  point 
above  the  vanishing  masthead. 

"  Doth  looking  hurt  yon  star?  "  asks  Jack. 

"  Nay;  but  looking  may  strain  the  eyes;  and 
the  arrows  of  longing  come  back  void." 

He  answered  nothing,  and  we  lingered 
heavy  hearted  till  the  sun  came  up  over  the 
pillowed  waves  turning  the  tumbling  waters  to 
molten  gold. 

Between  us  and  the  fan-like  rays  behind  the 
glossy  billows — was  no  ship. 

Hortense  was  safe! 

There  was  an  end-all  to  undared  hopes. 


65 


CHAPTER   V 

M.    RADISSON   AGAIN 

"  Good-bye  to  you,  Ramsay,"  said  Jack  ab- 
ruptly. 

"  Where  to,  Jack?  "  I  asked,  bestirring  my- 
self.   I  could  no  more  go  back  to  Eli  Kirke. 

But  little  Jack  Battle  was  squirming  his 
wooden  clogs  into  the  sand  as  he  used  to  dig 
his  toes,  and  he  answered  not  a  word. 

"  Tis  early  yet  for  the  Grand  Banks,  Jack. 
Ben  Gillam's  ship  keeled  mast  over  hull  from 
being  ice-logged  last  spring.  The  spars  were 
solid  with  frozen  sleet  from  the  crosstrees  to  the 
crowds  nest.  Your  dories  would  be  ice-logged 
for  a  month  yet." 

"  It — it — it  aren't  the  Grand  Banks  no 
more,"  stammered  Jack. 

His  manner  arrested  me.  The  honest  blue 
eyes  were  shifting  and  his  toes  at  work  in  the 
sand. 

"There  be  gold  on  the  high  seas  for  the 
taking,"  vouched  Jack.  "  An  your  fine  gentle- 
men grow  rich  that  way,  why  mayn't  I?" 

66 


M.    RADISSON   AGAIN 

"  Jack,"  I  warned,  thinking  of  Ben  Gillam's 
craft  rigged  with  sails  of  as  many  colours  as 
Joseph's  coat,  "  Jack — is  it  a  pirate-ship?  " 

"  No,"  laughed  the  sailor  lad  sheepishly, 
"  'tis  a  pirateer,"  meaning  thereby  a  privateer, 
which  was  the  same  thing  in  those  days. 

"  Have  a  care  of  your  pirateers — privateers. 
Jack,"  said  I,  speaking  plain.  "  A  gentleman 
would  be  run  through  the  gullet  with  a  clean 
rapier,  but  you — you — would  be  strangled  by 
sentence  of  court  or  sold  to  the  Barbadoes." 

**  Not  if  the  warden  o'  the  court  owns  half 
the  ship,"  protested  Jack,  smiling  queerly  under 
his  shaggy  brows. 

"Oh — ho!"  said  I,  thinking  of  Rebecca's 
father,  and  beginning  to  understand  who  sup- 
plied money  for  Ben  Gillam's  ventures. 

*'  I'm  tired  o'  being  a  kick-a-toe  and  fisti- 
cuff to  everybody.  Now,  if  I'd  been  rich  and 
had  a  ship,  I  might  'a'  sailed  for  M.  Picot." 

"  Or  Mistress  Hortense,"  I  added,  which 
brought  red  spots  to  the  sailor  lad's  cheeks. 

Off  he  went  unanswering,  leaving  me  at  gaze 
across  an  unbroken  sea  with  a  heart  heavy  as  lead. 

"  Poor  fellow!    He  will  get  over  it,"  said  I. 

"  Another  hath  need  o'  the  same  medicine," 
came  a  voice. 

I  wheeled,  expecting  arrest. 

67 


HERALDS   OF   EMPIRE 

A  tall,  wiry  man,  with  coal-black  hair  and 
deep-set  eyes  and  a  scar  across  his  swarth  skin, 
smiled  pleasantly  down  at  me. 

"  Now  that  you  have  them  safely  off,'*  said 
he,  still  smiling,  "  better  begone  yourself." 

"  I'll  thank  you  for  your  advice  when  I  ask 
it,  sir,"  said  I,  suspicious  of  the  press-gang  in- 
festing that  port.  Involuntarily  I  caught  at  my 
empty  sword-belt. 

"  Permit  me,"  proffered  the  gentleman,  with 
a  broader  smile,  handing  out  his  own  rapier. 

"  Sir,"  said  I,  "  your  pardon,  but  the  press- 
gang  have  been  busy  of  late." 

"  And  the  sheriffs  may  be  busy  to-day,"  he 
laughed.  "  Black  arts  don't  open  stone  walls, 
Ramsay." 

And  he  sent  the  blade  clanking  home  to  its 
scabbard.  His  surtout  falling  open  revealed  a 
waistcoat  of  buckskin.     I  searched  his  face. 

^'M.  deRadisson!" 

*'  My  hero  of  rescues,"  and  he  offered  his 
hand.  "  And  my  quondam  nephew,"  he  added, 
laughing;  for  his  wife  was  a  Kirke  of  the  Eng- 
lish branch,  and  my  aunt  was  married  to  Eli. 

"  Eli  Kirke  cannot  know  you  are  here, 
sir " 

"  Eli  Kirke  need  not  know,"  emphasized 
Radisson  dryly. 

68 


M.    RADISSON   AGAIN 

And  remembering  bits  of  rumour  about  M. 
Radisson  deserting  the  English  Fur  Company, 
I  hastened  to  add:  ''  Eli  Kirke  shall  not  know!  " 

"  Your  wits  jump  quick  enough  sometimes," 
said  he.  *'  Now  tell  me,  whose  is  she,  and  what 
value  do  you  set  on  her?  " 

I  was  speechless  wath  surprise.  However 
wild  a  life  M.  Radisson  led,  his  title  of  nobility 
was  from  a  king  who  awarded  patents  to  gen- 
tlemen only. 

"  We  neither  call  our  w^omen  '  she  '  nor  give 
them  market  value,"  I  retorted. 

Thereupon  M.  de  Radisson  falls  in  such  fits 
of  laughter,  I  had  thought  he  must  split  his  bal- 
drick. 

*'Pardieu!"  he  laughed,  wiping  the  tears 
away  with  a  fangled  lace  thing  fit  for  a  dandy, 
"Pardieu!  'Tis  not  your  girl-page?  'Tis  the 
ship o' that  hangdog  of  a  New  England  captain!" 

The  thing  came  in  a  jifify.  Sieur  Radisson, 
having  deserted  the  English  Fur  Company,  was 
setting  up  for  himself.  He  w^as  spying  the 
strength  of  his  rivals  for  the  north  sea. 

"  You  praised  my  wit.  I  have  but  given 
you  a  sample." 

Then  I  told  him  all  I  knew  of  the  ship,  and 
M.  de  Radisson  laughed  again  till  he  was  like 
to  weep. 

69 


HERALDS   OF   EMPIRE 

"  How  is  she  called?  "  he  asked. 

"  The  Prince  Rupert,"  said  I. 

"  Ha!  Then  the  same  crew  of  gentlemen's 
scullions  and  courtiers'  valets  stuffing  the  lock- 
ers full  o'  trash  to  trade  on  their  master's  ac- 
count.   A  pretty  cheat  for  the  Company!  " 

The  end  of  it  was,  M.  Radisson  invited  me 
to  join  his  ships.  "  A  beaver-skin  for  a  needle, 
Ramsay!  Twenty  otter  for  an  awl!  Wealth  for 
a  merchant  prince,"  he  urged. 

But  no  sooner  had  I  grasped  at  this  easy 
way  out  of  difficulty  than  the  Frenchman  in- 
terrupts: "  Hold  back,  man!  Do  you  know  the 
risk?" 

"  No — nor  care  one  rush!  " 

"  Governor  Frontenac  demands  half  of  the 
furs  for  a  license  to  trade,  but  M.  de  la  Barre, 
who  comes  to  take  his  place,  is  a  friend  of 
La  Chesnaye's,  and  La  Chesnaye  owns  our 
ships " 

"  And  you  go  without  a  license?  " 

''  And  the  galleys  for  life " 

"  If  you're  caught,"  said  I. 

"Pardieu!"  he  laughed,  "yes — if  we're 
caught!  " 

"  I'd  as  lief  go  to  the  galleys  for  fur-trading 
as  the  scaffold  for  witchcraft,"  said  I. 

With  that   our  bargain  was  sealed. 

70 


PART   II 


Now  comes  that  part  of  a  life  which  deals  \vith  what 
you  will  say  no  one  man  could  do,  yet  the  things  were  done ; 
with  wonders  stranger  than  witchcraft,  yet  were  true.  But 
because  you  have  never  lived  a  sword-length  from  city 
pavement,  nor  seen  one  man  holding  his  own  against  a  thou- 
sand enemies,  I  pray  you  deny  not  these  things. 

Each  life  is  a  shut-in  valley,  says  the  jongliere ;  but 
Manitou,  who  strides  from  peak  to  peak,  knows  there  is 
more  than  one  valley,  which  had  been  a  maxim  among  the 
jonglieres  long  before  one  Danish  gentleman  assured  another 
there  were  more  things  in  heaven  and  earth  than  philosophy 
dreamed. 


CHAPTER    VI 

THE   ROARING   FORTIES 

Keen  as  an  arrow  from  twanging  bowstring, 
Pierre  Radisson  set  sail  over  the  roaring  seas 
for  the  northern  bay. 

'Twas  midsummer  before  his  busy  flittings 
between  Acadia  and  Quebec  brought  us  to  Isle 
Percee,  at  the  mouth  of  the  St.  Lawrence.  Here 
Chouart  Groseillers  (his  brother-in-law)  lay  with 
two  of  the  craziest  craft  that  ever  rocked  anchor. 
I  scarce  had  time  to  note  the  bulging  hulls,  stout 
at  stem  and  stern  with  deep  sinking  of  the  waist, 
before  M.  Radisson  had  cUmbed  the  ship's  lad- 
der and  scattered  quick  commands  that  sent 
sailors  shinning  up  masts,  for  all  the  world  like 
so  many  monkeys.  The  St.  Pierre,  our  ship 
was  called,  in  honour  of  Pierre  Radisson;  for 
admiral  and  captain  and  trader,  all  in  one,  was 
Sieur  Radisson,  himself.  Indeed,  he  could  reef 
a  sail  as  handily  as  any  old  tar.  I  have  seen 
him  take  the  wheel  and  hurl  Allemand  head- 
foremost from  the  pilot-house  when  that  sponge- 

73 


HERALDS   OF    EMPIRE 

soaked  rascal  had  imbibed  more  gin  than  was 
safe  for  the  weathering  of  rocky  coasts. 

Call  him  gamester,  liar,  cheat — what  you 
will!  He  had  his  faults,  which  dogged  him  down 
to  poverty  and  ruin;  but  deeds  are  proof  of  the 
inner  man.  And  look  you  that  judge  Pierre 
Radisson  whether  your  own  deeds  ring  as  met- 
tle and  true. 

The  ironwood  capstan  bars  clanked  to  that 
seaman's  music  of  running  sailors.  A  clattering 
of  the  pawls — the  anchor  came  away.  The  St. 
Pierre  shook  out  her  bellying  sails  and  the  white 
sheets  drew  to  a  full  beam  wind.  Long  foam 
lines  crisped  away  from  the  prow.  Green  shores 
slipped  to  haze  of  distance.  With  her  larboard 
lipping  low  and  that  long  break  of  swishing  wa- 
ters against  her  ports  which  is  as  a  croon  to  the 
seaman's  ear,  the  St.  Pierre  dipped  and  rose 
and  sank  again  to  the  swell  of  the  billowing  sea. 
Behind,  crowding  every  stitch  of  canvas  and 
staggering  not  a  little  as  she  got  under  weigh, 
ploughed  the  Ste.  Anne.  And  all  about,  heav- 
ing and  falling  like  the  deep  breathings  of  a 
slumbering  monster,  were  the  wide  wastes  of 
the  sea. 

And  how  I  wish  that  I  could  take  you  back 
with  me  and  show  you  the  two  miserable  old 
gallipots  which  M.  de  Radisson  rode  into  the 

74 


THE    ROARING   FORTIES 

roaring  forties!  'Twas  as  if  those  gods  of  chance 
that  had  held  riotous  sway  over  all  that  watery 
desolation  now  first  discovered  one  greater  than 
themselves — a  rebel  'mid  their  warring  elements 
whose  will  they  might  harry  but  could  not  crush 
— Man,  the  king  undaunted,  coming  to  his  own! 
Children  oft  get  closer  to  the  essences  of  truth 
than  older  folk  grown  foolish  with  too  much 
learning.  As  a  child  I  used  to  think  what  a 
wonderful  moment  that  was  when  Man,  the 
master,  first  appeared  on  face  of  earth.  How 
did  the  beasts  and  the  seas  and  the  winds  feel 
about  it,  I  asked.  Did  they  laugh  at  this  fellow, 
the  most  helpless  of  all  things,  setting  out  to 
conquer  all  things?  Did  the  beasts  pursue  him 
till  he  made  bow  and  arrow  and  the  seas  defy 
him  till  he  rafted  their  waters  and  the  winds 
blow  his  house  down  till  he  dovetailed  his  tim- 
bers? That  was  the  child's  way  of  asking  a  very 
old  question — Was  Man  the  sport  of  the  ele- 
ments, the  plaything  of  all  the  cruel,  blind  gods 
of  chance? 

Now,  the  position  was  reversed. 

Now,  I  learned  how  the  Man  must  have  felt 
when  he  set  about  conquering  the  elements,  sub- 
duing land  and  sea  and  savagery.  And  in  that 
Ues  the  Homeric  greatness  of  this  vast,  fresh. 

New  World  of  ours.     Your  Old  World  victor 
6  75 


HERALDS    OF    EMPIRE 

takes  up  the  unfinished  work  left  by  generations 
of  men.  Your  New  World  hero  begins  at  the 
pristine  task.  I  pray  you,  who  are  born  to  the 
nobility  of  the  New  World,  forget  not  the  glory 
of  your  heritage;  for  the  place  which  God  hath 
given  you  in  the  history  of  the  race  is  one  which 
men  must  hold  in  envy  when  Roman  patri- 
cian and  Norman  conqueror  and  robber  baron 
are  as  forgotten  as  the  kingly  lines  of  old 
Egypt. 

Fifty  ton  was  our  craft,  with  a  crazy  pitch 
to  her  prow  Hke  to  take  a  man's  stomach  out 
and  the  groaning  of  infernal  fiends  in  her  tim- 
bers. Twelve  men,  our  crew  all  told,  half  of 
them  young  gentlemen  of  fortune  from  Quebec, 
with  titles  as  long  as  a  tilting  lance  and  the 
fighting  blood  of  a  Spanish  don  and  the  airs  of 
a  king's  grand  chamberlain.  Their  seamanship 
you  may  guess.  All  of  them  spent  the  better 
part  of  the  first  weeks  at  sea  full  length  below 
deck.  Of  a  calm  day  they  lolled  disconsolate 
over  the  taffrail,  with  one  eye  alert  for  flight 
down  the  companionway  when  the  ship  began 
to  heave. 

^'  What  are  you  doing  back  there,  La  Ches- 
naye?  "  asks  M.  de  Radisson,  with  a  quiet  wink, 
not  speaking  loud  enough  for  fo'castle  hands  to 
hear. 

76 


THE    ROARING    FORTIES 

"  Cursing  myself  for  ever  coming,"  growls 
that  young  gentleman,  scarce  turning  his  head. 

*'  In  that  case,"  smiles  Sieur  Radisson,  "'  you 
might  be  better  occupied  learning  to  take  a 
hand  at  the  helm." 

"  Sir,"  pleads  La  Chesnaye  meekly,  "  'tis  all 
I  can  do  to  ballast  the  ship  below  stairs." 

"  'Tis  laziness,  La  Chesnaye,"  vows  Radisson. 
''  Men  are  thrown  overboard  for  less!  " 

"  A  quick  death  were  kindness,  sir,"  groans 
La  Chesnaye,  scalloping  in  bhnd  zigzags  for  the 
stair.  "  i\Iay  I  be  shot  from  that  cannon,  sir, 
if  I  ever  set  foot  on  ship  again!  " 

M.  de  Radisson  laughs,  and  the  place  of  the 
merchant  prince  is  taken  by  the  marquis  with 
a  face  the  gray  shade  of  old  Tibbie's  linen  a- 
bleaching  on  the  green. 

The  Ste.  Anne,  under  Groseillers — whom  w^e 
called  Mr.  Gooseberry  when  he  w^ore  his  airs  too 
mightily — was  better  manned,  having  able-bod- 
ied seamen,  w^ho  distinguished  themselves  by  a 
mutiny. 

Of  which  you  shall  hear  anon. 

But  the  spirits  of  our  young  gentlemen  took 
a  prodigious  leap  upward  as  their  bodies  be- 
came used  to  the  crazy  pace  of  our  ship,  whose 
gait  I  can  compare  only  to  the  bouncings  of 
loose  timber  in  a  heavy  sea.     North  of  New- 

77 


HERALDS   OF   EMPIRE 

foundland  we  were  blanketed  in  a  dirty  fog. 
That  gave  our  fine  gentlemen  a  chance  to  right 
end  up. 

"  Every  man  of  them  a  good  seaman  in 
calm  weather,"  Sieur  Radisson  observed;  and  he 
put  them  through  marine  drill  all  that  week. 

La  Chesnaye  so  far  recovered  that  he  some- 
times kept  me  company  at  the  bowsprit,  where 
we  watched  the  clumsy  gambols  of  the  porpoise, 
racing  and  leaping  and  turning  somersets  in 
mid-air  about  the  ship.  Once,  I  mind  the  St. 
Pierre  gave  a  tremor  as  if  her  keel  had  grated 
a  reef;  and  a  monster  silver-stripe  heaved  up 
on  our  lee.  'Twas  a  finback  whale,  M.  Radis- 
son explained;  and  he  protested  against  the  im- 
pudence of  scratching  its  back  on  our  keel.  As 
we  sailed  farther  north  many  a  school  of  roll- 
ing finbacks  glistened  silver  in  the  sun  or  rose 
higher  than  our  masthead,  when  one  took  the 
death-leap  to  escape  its  leagued  foes — sword- 
fish  and  thrasher  and  shark.  And  to  give  you 
an  idea  of  the  fearful  tide  breaking  through  the 
narrow  fiords  of  that  rock-bound  coast,  I  may 
tell  you  that  La  Chesnaye  and  I  have  often  seen 
those  leviathans  of  the  deep  swept  tail  foremost 
by  the  driving  tide  into  some  land-locked  la- 
goon and  there  beached  high  on  naked  rock. 
That  was  the  sea  M.  Radisson  was  navigating 

78 


THE    ROARING    FORTIES 

with  cockle-shell  boats  unstable  of  pace  as  a  va- 
grant with  rickets. 

Even  Foret,  the  marquis,  forgot  his  dainty- 
fingered  dignity  and  took  a  hand  at  the  fishing 
of  a  shark  one  day.  The  cook  had  put  out  a 
bait  at  the  end  of  a  chain  fastened  to  the  cap- 
stan, when  comes  a  mighty  tug;  and  the  cook 
shouts  out  that  he  has  caught  a  shark.  All 
hands  are  hailed  to  the  capstan,  and  every  one 
of  my  fine  gentlemen  grasps  an  ironwood  bar 
to  hoist  the  monster  home.  I  wish  you  had 
seen  their  faces  when  the  shark's  great  head  with 
six  rows  of  teeth  in  its  gaping  upper  jaw  came 
abreast  the  deck!  Half  the  fellows  were  for 
throwing  down  the  bars  and  running,  but  the 
other  half  would  not  show  white  feather  before 
the  common  sailors;  and  two  or  three  clanking 
rounds  brought  the  great  shark  lashing  to  deck 
in  a  way  that  sent  us  scuttling  up  the  ratlines. 
But  Foret  would  not  be  beaten.  He  thrust  an 
ironwood  bar  across  the  gaping  jaws.  The 
shark  tore  the  wood  to  sphnters.  There  was 
a  rip  that  snapped  the  cable  with  the  report  of 
a  pistol,  and  the  great  fish  was  over  deck  and 
away  in  the  sea. 

By  this,  you  may  know,  we  had  all  left  our 
landsmen's  fears  far  south  of  Belle  Isle  and  were 
filled  with  the  spirit  of  that  wild,  tempestuous 

79 


HERALDS   OF   EMPIRE 

world  where  the  storm  never  sleeps  and  the  cord- 
age pipes  on  calmest  day  and  the  beam  seas 
break  in  the  long,  low,  growling  wash  that  warns 
the  coming  hurricane. 

But  if  you  think  we  were  a  Noah's  ark  of 
solemn  faces  'mid  all  that  warring  desolation, 
you  are  much  mistaken.  I  doubt  if  lamenta- 
tions ever  did  as  much  to  lift  mankind  to  vic- 
tory as  the  naughty  glee  of  the  shrieking  fife. 
And  of  glee,  we  had  a-plenty  on  all  that  voy- 
age north. 

La  Chesnaye,  son  of  the  merchant  prince  who 
owned  our  ships,  played  cock-o'-the-walk,  took 
rank  next  to  M.  Radisson,  and  called  himself 
deputy  -  governor.  Foret,  whose  father  had 
a  stretch  of  barren  shingle  on  The  Labrador, 
and  who  had  himself  received  letters  patent  from 
His  Most  Christian  Majesty  for  a  marquisate, 
swore  he  would  be  cursed  if  he  gave  the  pas  to 
La  Chesnaye,  or  any  other  commoner.  And  M. 
de  Radisson  was  as  great  a  stickler  for  fine 
points  as  any  of  the  new-fledged  colonials.  When 
he  called  a  conference,  he  must  needs  muster 
to  the  quarter-deck  by  beat  of  drum,  with  a 
tipstaff,  having  a  silver  bauble  of  a  stick,  lead- 
ing the  way.  This  office  fell  to  Godefroy,  the 
trader,  a  fellow  with  the  figure  of  a  slat  and 
a  scalp  tonsured  bare  as  a  billiard-ball  by  Indian 

80 


THE    ROARING    FORTIES 

hunting-knife.  Spite  of  many  a  thwack  from 
the  flat  of  M.  de  Radisson's  sword,  Godefroy 
would  carry  the  silver  mace  to  the  chant  of  a 
''  diddle-dee-dee,"  which  he  was  always  hum- 
ming in  a  sand-papered  voice  wherever  he  went. 
At  beat  of  drum  for  conference  we  all  came 
scrambling  down  the  rathnes  hke  tumbling  acro- 
bats of  a  country  fair.  Godefroy  grasps  his  sil- 
ver stick. 

''  Fall  in  line,  there,  deputy-governor,  did- 
dle-dee-dee! " 

La  Chesnaye  cuffs  the  fellow's  ears. 

''Diddle-dee-dee!  Come  on,  marquis.  Does 
Your  High  ^Mightiness  give  place  to  a  mer- 
chant's son?  Heaven  help  you,  gentlemen! 
Come  on!     Come  on!     Diddle-dee-dee!" 

And  we  all  march  to  'M.  de  Radisson's  cabin 
and  sit  down  gravely  at  a  long  table. 

"Pot  o'  beer,  tipstaff,"  orders  Radisson; 
and  Godefroy  goes  off  slapping  his  buckskins 
with  glee. 

]\I.  Radisson  no  more  takes  ofY  his  hat  than 
a  king's  ambassador,  but  he  waits  for  La  Ches- 
naye and  Foret  to  uncover.  The  merchant 
strums  on  the  table  and  glares  at  the  marquis, 
and  the  marquis  looks  at  the  skyUght,  waiting 
for  the  merchant;  and  the  end  of  it  is  M.  Radis- 
son must  give  Godefroy  the  wink,  who  knocks 

8i 


HERALDS    OF    EMPIRE 

both  their  hats  off  at  once,  explaining  that  a 
landsman  can  ill  keep  his  legs  on  the  sea,  and 
the  sea  is  no  respecter  of  persons.  Once,  at 
the  end  of  his  byplay  between  the  two  young 
fire-eaters,  the  sea  lurched  in  earnest,  a  mighty 
pitch  that  threw  tipstaff  sprawling  across  the 
table.  And  the  beer  went  full  in  the  face  of 
the  marquis. 

"There's  a  health  to  you,  Foret!"  roared 
the  merchant  in  whirlwinds  of  laughter. 

But  the  marquis  had  gone  heels  over  head. 
He  gained  his  feet  as  the  ship  righted,  whipped 
out  his  rapier,  vowed  he  would  dust  somebody's 
jacket,  and  caught  up  Godefroy  on  the  tip  of 
his  sword  by  the  rascal's  belt. 

"  Foret,  I  protest,"  cried  M.  Radisson,  scarce 
speaking  for  laughter,  "  I  protest  there's  noth- 
ing spilt  but  the  beer  and  the  dignity!  The 
beer  can  be  mopped.  There's  plenty  o'  dignity 
in  the  same  barrel.  Save  Godefroy!  We  can  ill 
spare  a  man!  " 

With  a  quick  rip  of  his  ow^n  rapier,  Radisson 
had  cut  Godefroy's  belt  and  the  wretch  scuttled 
up-stairs  out  of  reach.  Sailors  wiped  up  the 
beer,  and  all  hands  braced  chairs  'twixt  table  and 
wall  to  await  M.  Radisson's  pleasure. 

He  had  dressed  with  unusual  care.  Gold 
braid   edged   his   black    doublet,    and   fine   old 

82 


THE    ROARING   FORTIES 

Mechlin  came  back  over  his  sleeves  in  deep  ruffs. 
And  in  his  eyes  the  glancing  light  of  steel  strik- 
ing fire. 

Bidding  the  sailors  take  themselves  off,  M. 
Radisson  drew  his  blade  from  the  scabbard  and 
called  attention  by  a  sharp  rap. 

Quick  silence  fell,  and  he  laid  the  naked 
sword  across  the  table.  His  right  hand  played 
with  the  jewelled  hilt.  Across  his  breast  were 
medals  and  stars  of  honour  given  him  by  many 
monarchs.  I  think  as  we  looked  at  our  leader 
every  man  of  us  would  have  esteemed  it  honour 
to  sail  the  seas  in  a  tub  if  Pierre  Radisson  cap- 
tained the  craft. 

But  his  left  hand  was  twitching  uneasily  at 
his  chin,  and  in  his  eyes  were  the  restless  Hghts. 

"  Gentlemen,"  says  he,  as  unconcerned  as  if 
he  were  forecasting  weather,  "  gentlemen,  I  seem 
to  have  heard  that  the  crew  of  my  kinsman's 
ship  have  mutinied." 

We  were  nigh  a  thousand  leagues  from  res- 
cue or  help  that  day! 

''  Mutinied!  "  shrieks  La  Chesnaye,  with  his 
voice  all  athrill.  ''  Mutinied?  What  will  my 
father  have  to  say?  " 

And  he  clapped  his  tilted  chair  to  floor 
with  a  thwack  that  might  have  echoed  to  the 
fo'castle. 

83 


HERALDS    OF   EMPIRE 

"  Shall  I  lend  you  a  trumpet,  La  Chesnaye, 
or — or  a  fife?  "  asks  M.  Radisson,  very  quiet. 

And  I  assure  you  there  was  no  more  loud 
talk  in  the  cabin  that  day;  only  the  long,  low 
wash  and  pound  and  break  of  the  seas  abeam, 
with  the  surly  wail  that  portends  storm.  I  do 
not  believe  any  of  us  ever  realized  what  a  frail 
chip  was  between  Hfe  and  eternity  till  we  heard 
the  wrenching  and  groaning  of  the  timbers  in 
the  silence  that  followed  M.  Radisson's  words. 

"  Gentlemen,"  continues  M.  Radisson,  softer- 
spoken  than  before,  "  if  any  one  here  is  for  turn- 
ing back,  I  desire  him  to  stand  up  and  say  so." 

The  St.  Pierre  shipped  a  sea  with  a  strain 
like  to  tear  her  asunder,  and  waters  went  siz- 
zling through  lee  scuppers  above  with  the  hiss 
of  a  cataract.  M.  Radisson  inverts  a  sand-glass 
and  watches  the  sand  trickle  through  till  the 
last  grain  drops.     Then  he  turns  to  us. 

Two  or  three  faces  had  gone  white  as  the 
driving  spray,  but  never  a  man  opened  his  lips 
to  counsel  return. 

"  Gentlemen,"  says  M.  Radisson,  with  the 
fires  agleam  in  his  deep-set  eyes,  "  am  I  to 
understand  that  every  one  here  is  for  going  for- 
ward at  any  risk?  " 

"Aye — aye,  sir!"  burst  like  a  clarion  from 
our  circle. 

84 


THE    ROARING    FORTIES 

Pierre  Radisson  smiled  quietly. 

"  Tis  as  well,"  says  he,  "  for  I  bade  the  cow- 
ard stand  up  so  that  I  could  run  him  through 
to  the  hilt,"  and  he  clanked  the  sword  back  to 
its  scabbard. 

"  As  I  said  before,"  he  went  on,  "  the  crew  on 
my  kinsman's  ship  have  mutinied.  There's  an- 
other trifle  to  keep  under  your  caps,  gentlemen 
— the  mutineers  have  been  running  up  pirate 
signals  to  the  crew  of  this  ship " 

''Pirate  signals!"  interrupts  La  Chesnaye, 
whose  temper  was  ever  crackling  off  like  grains 
of  gunpowder.  "  May  I  ask,  sir,  how  you  know 
the  pirate  signals?  " 

M.  de  Radisson's  face  was  a  study  in 
masks. 

"  You  may  ask.  La  Chesnaye,"  says  he,  rub- 
bing his  chin  with  a  wrinkHng  smile,  "  you  may 
ask,  but  I'm  hanged  if  I  answer!  " 

And  from  lips  that  had  whitened  with  fear 
but  a  moment  before  came  laughter  that  set  the 
timbers  ringing. 

Then  Foret  found  his  tongue. 

"  Hang  a  baker's  dozen  of  the  mutineers 
from  the  yard-arm!  " 

"A  baker's  dozen  is  thirteen,  Foret,"  re- 
torted Radisson,  ''and  the  Ste.  Anne's  crew 
numbers  fifteen." 

8S 


HERALDS    OF    EMPIRE 

"  Hang  'em  in  effigy  as  they  do  in  Quebec," 
persists  Foret. 

Pierre  Radisson  only  pointed  over  his  shoul- 
der to  the  port  astern.  Crowding  to  the  glazed 
window  we  saw  a  dozen  scarecrows  tossing  from 
the  crosstrees  of  Groseillers's  ship. 

"  What  does  Captain  Radisson  advise?  "  asks 
La  Chesnaye. 

"  La  Chesnaye,"  says  Radisson,  ''  I  never  ad- 
vise.    I  act!  " 


86 


CHAPTER    VII 

M.    DE    RADISSON    ACTS 

Quick  as  tongue  could  trip  off  the  orders, 
eyes  everywhere,  thought  and  act  jumping  to- 
gether, Pierre  Radisson  had  given  each  one  his 
part,  and  pledged  our  obedience,  though  he  bade 
us  walk  the  plank  blindfold  to  the  sea.  Tw^o 
men  were  set  to  transferring  powder  and  arms 
from  the  forehold  to  our  captain's  cabin.  One 
went  hand  over  fist  up  the  mainmast  and  sig- 
nalled the  Ste.  Anne  to  close  up.  Jackets  were 
torn  from  the  deck-guns  and  the  guns  slued 
round  to  sweep  from  stem  to  stern.  With  a 
jarring  of  cranes  and  shaking  of  timbers,  the 
two  ships  bumped  together;  and  a  more  sur- 
prised looking  lot  of  men  than  the  crew  of  the 
Ste.  Anne  you  never  saw.  Pierre  Radisson  had 
played  the  rogues  their  own  game  in  the  mat- 
ter of  signals.  They  had  thought  the  St.  Pierre 
in  league,  else  would  they  not  have  come  into 
his  trap  so  readily.  Before  they  had  time  to 
protest,  the  ships  were  together,  the  two  cap- 

87 


HERALDS    OF    EMPIRE 

tains  conferring  face  to  face  across  the  rails,  and 
our  sailors  standing  at  arms  ready  to  shoot  down 
the  first  rebel. 

At  a  word,  the  St.  Pierre's  crew  w'ere  scram- 
bHng  to  the  Ste.  Anne's  decks.  A  shout  through 
the  trumpet  of  the  Ste.  Anne's  bo'swain  and  the 
mutinous  crew  of  the  Ste.  Anne  were  marched 
aboard  the  St.  Pierre. 

Then  M.  Radisson's  plan  became  plain.  The 
other  ship  was  the  better.  ^I.  de  Radisson  was 
determined  that  at  least  one  crew  should  reach 
the  bay.  Besides,  as  he  had  half-laughingly  in- 
sinuated, perhaps  he  knew  better  than  Chouart 
Groseillers  of  the  Ste.  Anne  how  to  manage  mu- 
tinous pirates.  Of  the  St.  Pierre's  crew,  three 
only  remained  with  Radisson:  Allemand,  in  the 
pilot-house;  young  Jean  Groseillers,  Chouart's 
son,  on  guard  aft;  and  myself,  armed  with  a 
musket,  to  sweep  the  fo'castle. 

And  all  the  time  there  was  such  a  rolling  sea 
the  two  ships  were  like  to  pound  their  bulwarks 
to  kindling  wood.  Then  the  Ste.  Anne  eased 
off,  sheered  away,  and  wore  ship  for  open 
sea. 

Pierre  Radisson  turned.  There  faced  him 
that  grim,  mutinous  crew. 

No  need  to  try  orders  then.  'Twas  the  cat 
those  men  wanted.    Before  Pierre  Radisson  had 

88 


M.    DE    RADISSON   ACTS 

said  one  word  the  mutineers  had  discovered  the 
deck  cannon  pointing  amidships.  A  shout  of  baf- 
fled rage  broke  from  the  ragged  group.  Quick 
words  passed  from  man  to  man.  A  noisy,  shuf- 
fling, indeterminate  movement!  The  crowd 
swayed  forward.  There  was  a  sudden  rush 
from  the  fo'castle  to  the  waist.  They  had 
charged  to  gain  possession  of  the  powder  cabin 
— Pierre  Radisson  raised  his  pistol.  For  an  in- 
stant they  held  back.  Then  a  barefoot  fellow 
struck  at  him  with  a  belaying-pin. 

'Tw'ere  better  for  that  man  if  he  had  called 
down  the  lightnings. 

Quicker  than  I  can  tell  it,  Pierre  Radisson 
had  sprung  upon  him.  The  Frenchman's  left 
arm  had  coiled  the  fellow  round  the  waist.  Our 
leader's  pistol  flashed  a  circle  that  drove  the 
rabble  back,  and  the  ringleader  went  hurling 
head  foremost  through  the  main  hatch  with 
force  like  to  flatten  his  skull  to  a  gun-wad. 

There  was  a  mighty  scattering  back  to  the 
fo'castle  then,  I  promise  you. 

Pierre  Radisson  uttered  never  a  syllable.  He 
pointed  to  the  fore  scuttle.  Then  he  pointed 
to  the  men.  Down  they  went  under  hatches — 
rats  in  a  trap! 

"Tramp — bundle — pack!;"  says,  he,  as  the 
last  man  bobbed  below. 

89. 


HERALDS   OF    EMPIRE 

But  with  a  ping  that  raised  the  hair  from 
my  head,  came  a  pistol-shot  from  the  main- 
masts. There,  perched  astride  of  the  cross- 
trees,  was  a  rascal  mutineer  popping  at  M.  Ra- 
disson  bold  as  you  please. 

Our  captain  took  off  his  beaver,  felt  the  bul- 
let-hole in  the  brim,  looked  up  coolly,  and 
pointed  his  musket. 

"  Drop  that  pistol!  "  said  he. 

The  fellow^  yelped  out  fear.  Down  clattered 
his  weapon  to  the  deck. 

"  Now  sit  there,"  ordered  Radisson,  repla- 
cing his  beaver.  "  Sit  there  till  I  give  you  leave 
to  come  down!  " 

Allemand,  the  pilot,  had  lost  his  head  and 
was  steering  a  course  crooked  as  a  worm  fence. 
Young  Jean  Groseillers  went  white  as  the  sails, 
and  scarce  had  strength  to  slue  the  guns  back 
or  jacket  their  muzzles.  And,  instead  of  curling 
forward  with  the  crest  of  the  roll,  the  spray 
began  to  chop  off  backward  in  little  short 
waves  like  a  horse's  mane — a  bad,  bad  sign, 
as  any  seaman  will  testify.  And  I,  with  my 
musket  at  guard  above  the  fo'scuttle,  had  a 
heart  thumping  harder  than  the  pounding 
seas. 

And  what  do  you  think  M.  Radisson  said  as 
he  wiped  the  sweat  from  his  brow? 

90 


M.    DE    RADISSON   ACTS 

"  A  pretty  pickle,*  indeed,  to  ground  a  man's 
plans  on  such  dashed  impudence!  Hazard  o' 
life!  As  if  a  man  would  turn  from  his  course 
for  them!  Spiders  o'  hell!  I'll  strike  my  top- 
mast to  Death  himself  first — so  the  devil  go  with 
them!  The  bUnd  gods  may  crush — they  shall 
not  conquer!  They  may  kill — but  I  snap  my 
fingers  in  their  faces  to  the  death!  A  pretty 
pickle,  indeed!  Batten  down  the  hatches,  Ram- 
say. Lend  Jean  a  hand  to  get  the  guns  under 
cover.     There's  a  storm!" 

And  "  a  pretty  pickle "  it  was,  with  the 
''  porps  "  floundering  bodily  from  wave-crest  to 
wave-crest,  the  winds  shrieking  through  the 
cordage,  and  the  storm-fiends  brewing  a  hurri- 
cane Hke  to  engulf  master  and  crew! 

In  the  forehold  were  rebels  who  would  sink 
us  all  to  the  bottom  of  the  sea  if  they  could. 
Aft,  powder  enough  to  blow  us  all  to  eter- 
nity! On  deck,  one  brave  man,  two  chittering 
lads,  and  a  gin-soaked  pilot  steering  a  crazy 
course  among  the  fanged  reefs  of  Labrador. 


*  These  expressions  are  M.  de  Radisson's  and  not  words 
coined  by  Mr.  Stanhope,  as  may  be  seen  by  reference  to  the 
French  explorer's  account  of  his  own  travels,  written  partly 
in  English,  where  he  repeatedly  refers  to  a  "pretty  pickle." 
As  for  the  ships,  they  seem  to  have  been  something  between 
9,  modern  whaler  and  old-time  brigantine. — Author. 


9' 


HERALDS   OF   EMPIRE 

The  wind  backed  and  veered  and  came  again 
so  that  a  weather-vane  could  not  have  shown 
which  way  it  blew.  At  one  moment  the  ship 
was  jumping  from  wave  to  wave  before  the  wind 
with  a  single  tiny  storms'l  out.  At  another  I 
had  thought  we  must  scud  under  bare  poles  for 
open  sea. 

The  coast  sheered  vertical  like  a  rampart 
wall,  and  up — up — up  that  dripping  rock 
clutched  the  tossing  billows  like  watery  arms 
of  sirens.  It  needed  no  seaman  to  prophecy  the 
fate  of  a  boat  caught  between  that  rock  and 
a  nor'easter. 

Then  the  gale  would  veer,  and  out  raced  a 
tidal  billow  of  waters  Hke  to  take  the  St.  Pierre 
broadside. 

"Helm  hard  alee!"  shouts  Radisson  in  the 
teeth  of  the  gale. 

For  the  fraction  of  a  second  we  were  driving 
before  the  oncoming  rush. 

Then  the  sea  rose  up  in  a  wall  on  our 
rear. 

There  was  a  shattering  crash.  The  billows 
broke  in  sheets  of  whipping  spray.  The  decks 
swam  with  a  river  of  waters.  One  gun  wrenched 
loose,  teetered  to  the  roll,  and  pitched  into  the 
seething  deep.  Yard-arms  came  splintering  to 
the  deck.    There  was  a  roaring  of  waters  over 

92 


M.    DE    RADISSON   ACTS 

us,  under  us,  round  us — then  M.  de  Radisson, 
Jean,  and  I  went  slithering  forward  like  water- 
rats  caught  in  a  whirlpool.  My  feet  struck 
against  windlass  chains.  Jean  saved  himself 
from  washing  overboard  by  cannoning  into  me; 
but  before  the  dripping  bowsprit  rose  again  to 
mount  the  swell,  M.  de  Radisson  was  up,  sha- 
king off  spray  like  a  water-dog  and  muttering 
to  himself:  ''  To  be  snuffed  out  like  a  candle 
— no — no — no,  my  fine  fellows!  Leap  to  meet 
it!    Leap  to  meet  it!  " 

And  he  was  at  the  wheel  himself. 

The  ship  gave  a  long  shudder,  staggered 
back,  stern  foremost,  to  the  trough  of  the 
swell,  and  lay  weltering  cataracts  from  her 
decks. 

There  was  a  pause  of  sudden  quiet,  the  quiet 
of  forces  gathering  strength  for  fiercer  assault; 
and  in  that  pause  I  remembered  something  had 
flung  over  me  in  the  wash  of  the  breaking  sea. 
I  looked  to  the  crosstrees.  The  mutineer  was 
gone. 

It  was  the  first  and  last  time  that  I  have 
ever  seen  a  smoking  sea.  The  ocean  boiled 
white.  Far  out  in  the  wake  of  the  tide  that  had 
caught  us  foam  smoked  on  the  track  of  the 
ploughing  waters.  Waters — did  I  say?  You 
could  not  see  waters  for  the  spray. 

93 


HERALDS    OF    EMPIRE 

Then  Jean  bade  me  look  how  the  stays'l  had 
been  torn  to  flutters,  and  we  both  set  about 
righting  decks. 

For  all  I  could  see,  M.  Radisson  was  simply 
holding  the  wheel;  but  the  holding  of  a  wheel 
in  stress  is  mighty  fine  seamanship.  To  keep 
that  old  gallipot  from  shipping  seas  in  the 
tempest  of  billows  was  a  more  ticklish  task 
than  rope-walking  a  whirlpool  or  sacking  a 
city. 

Presently  came  two  sounds — a  swish  of  seas 
at  our  stern  and  the  booming  of  surf  against 
coast  rocks.  Then  M.  de  Radisson  did  the  mad- 
dest thing  that  ever  I  have  seen.  Both  sounds 
told  of  the  coming  tempest.  The  veering  wind 
settled  to  a  driving  nor'easter,  and  M.  de  Radis- 
son was  steering  straight  as  a  bullet  to  the  mark 
for  that  rock  wall. 

But  I  did  not  know  that  coast.  When  our 
ship  was  but  three  lengths  from  destruction  the 
St.  Pierre  answered  to  the  helm.  Her  prow- 
rounded  a  sharp  rock.  Then  the  wind  caught 
her,  whirling  her  right  about;  but  in  she  went, 
stern  foremost,  like  a  fish,  between  the  narrow 
walls  of  a  fiord  to  the  quiet  shelter  of  a  land- 
locked lagoon.  Pierre  Radisson  had  taken 
refuge  in  what  the  sailors  call  "  a  hole  in  the 
wall." 

94 


M.   DE   RADISSON  ACTS 

There  we  lay  close  reefed,  both  anchors  out, 
while  the  hurricane  held  high  carnival  on  the 
outer  sea. 

After  we  had  put  the  St.  Pierre  ship-shape, 
M.  Radisson  stationed  Jean  and  me  fore  and  aft 
with  muskets  levelled,  and  bade  us  shoot  any 
man  but  himself  who  appeared  above  the  hatch. 
Arming  himself  with  his  short,  curved  hanger 
— oh,  I  warrant  there  would  have  been  a  carving 
below  decks  had  any  one  resisted  him  that  day! 
— down  he  went  to  the  mutineers  of  the  dim- 
lighted  forehold. 

Perhaps  the  storm  had  quelled  the  spirit  of 
rebellion;  but  up  came  IM.  de  Radisson,  fol- 
lowed by  the  entire  crew — one  fellow's  head  in 
white  cotton  where  it  had  struck  the  floor,  and 
every  man  jumping  keen  to  answer  his  captain's 
word. 

I  must  not  forget  a  curious  thing  that  hap- 
pened as  we  lay  at  anchor.  The  storm  had 
scarce  abated  when  a  strange  ship  poked  her 
jib-boom  across  the  entrance  to  the  lagoon,  fol- 
lowed by  queer-rigged  black  sails. 

"  A  pirate!  "  said  Jean. 

But  Sieur  de  Radisson  only  puckered  his 
brows,  shifted  position  so  that  the  St.  Pierre 
could  give  a  broadside,  and  said  nothing. 

Then  came  the  strangest  part  of  it.    Another 

95 


HERALDS   OF   EMPIRE 

ship  poked  her  nose  across  the  other  side  of  the 
entrance.     This  was  white-rigged. 

''  Two  ships,  and  they  have  us  cooped!  "  ex- 
claimed Jean. 

"  One  sporting  different  sails,"  said  M.  de 
Radisson  contemptuously. 

''  What  do  you  think  we  should  do,  sir?  " 
asked  Jean. 

''Think?"  demanded  Radisson.  "I  have 
stopped  thinking!  I  act!  My  thoughts  are 
acts." 

But  all  the  same  his  thought  at  that  moment 
was  to  let  go  a  broadside  that  sent  the  stranger 
scudding.  Judging  it  unwise  to  keep  a  half- 
mutinous  crew  too  near  pirate  ships,  M.  Radis- 
son ordered  anchor  up.  With  a  deck-mop  fast- 
ened in  defiance  to  our  prow,  the  St.  Pierre 
slipped  out  of  the  harbour  through  the  half-dark 
of  those  northern  summer  nights,  and  gave  the 
heel  to  any  highwayman  waiting  to  attack  as 
she  passed. 

The  rest  of  the  voyage  was  a  ploughing 
through  brash  ice  in  the  straits,  with  an  occa- 
sional disembarking  at  the  edge  of  some  great 
ice-field;  but  one  morning  we  were  all  awakened 
from  the  heavy  sleep  of  hard-worked  seamen  by 
the  screaming  of  a  multitude  of  birds.  The  air 
was   odorous   with   the   crisp    smell   of   woods, 

96 


M.   DE    RADISSON   ACTS 

When  we  came  on  deck,  'twas  to  see  the  St. 
Pierre  anchored  in  the  cove  of  a  river  that  raced 
to  meet  the  bay. 

The  screaming  gulls  knew  not  what  to  make 
of  these  strange  visitors;  for  we  were  at  Port 
Nelson — Fort  Bourbon,  as  the  French  called  it. 

And  you  must  not  forget  that  we  were 
French  on  that  trip! 


97 


CHAPTER   VIII 

M.    DE   RADISSON    COMES    TO    HIS    OWN 

The  sea  was  touched  to  silver  by  the  rising 
sun — not  the  warm,  red  sun  of  southern  climes, 
nor  yet  the  gold  light  of  the  temperate  zones, 
but  the  cold,  clear  steel  of  that  great  cold  land 
where  all  the  warring  elements  challenge  man 
to  combat.  Browned  by  the  early  frosts,  with 
a  gHnt  of  hoar  rime  on  the  cobwebs  among  the 
grasses,  north,  south,  and  west,  as  far  as  eye 
could  see,  were  boundless  reaches  of  hill  and 
valley.  And  over  all  lay  the  rich-toned  shadows 
of  early  dawn. 

The  broad  river  raced  not  to  meet  the  sea 
more  swiftly  than  our  pulses  leaped  at  sight  of 
that  unclaimed  world.  'Twas  a  kingdom  wait- 
ing for  its  king.    And  its  king  had  come! 

Flush  with  triumph,  sniffing  the  nutty,  au- 
tumn air  like  a  war-horse  keen  for  battle,  stood 
M.  Radisson  all  impatience  for  the  conquest  of 
new  realms.  His  jewelled  sword-hilt  glistened 
in  the  sun.     The  fire  that  always  slumbered  in 

98 


DE  RADISSON  COMES  TO  HIS  OWN 

the  deep-set  eyes  flashed  to  life;  and,  fetching 
a  deep  breath,  he  said  a  queer  thing  to  Jean 
and  me. 

'"Tis  good  air,  lads,"  says  he;  "'tis  free!" 
And  I,  who  minded  that  bloody  war  in  which 
my  father  lost  his  all,  knew  what  the  words 
meant,  and  drank  deep. 

But  for  the  screaming  of  the  birds  there  was 
silence  of  death.  And,  indeed,  it  was  death  we 
had  come  to  disenthrone.  IM.  Radisson  issued 
orders  quick  on  top  of  one  another,  and  the 
sailors  swarmed  from  the  hold  Hke  bees  from 
a  hive.  The  drum  beat  a  roundelay  that  set  our 
blood  hopping.  There  were  trumpet-calls  back 
and  forth  from  our  ship  to  the  Ste.  Anne.  Then, 
to  a  whacking  of  cables  through  blocks,  the 
gig-boats  touched  water,  and  all  hands  were  ra- 
cing for  the  shore.  Godefroy  waved  a  monster 
flag — lilies  of  France,  gold-wrought  on  cloth  of 
silk — and  Allemand  kept  beating — and  beating 
— and  beating  the  drum,  rumbling  out  a  "  Vive 
le  Roi!  "  to  every  stroke.  Before  the  keel  grav- 
elled on  the  beach,  M.  Radisson's  foot  was  on 
the  gunwale,  and  he  leaped  ashore.  Godefroy 
followed,  flourishing  the  French  flag  and  yell- 
ing at  the  top  of  his  voice  for  the  King  of  France. 
Behind,  wading  and  floundering  through  the 
water,  came  the  rest.    Godefroy  planted  the  flag- 

99 


HERALDS    OF   EMPIRE 

staff.  The  two  crews  sent  up  a  shout  that  star- 
tled those  strange,  primeval  silences.  Then,  M. 
Radisson  stepped  forward,  hat  in  hand,  whipped 
out  his  sword,  and  held  it  aloft. 

"  In  the  name  of  Louis  the  Great,  King  of 
France,"  he  shouted,  "  in  the  name  of  His  Most 
Christian  Majesty,  the  King  of  France,  I  take 
possession  of  all  these  regions!  " 

At  that,  Chouart  Groseillers  shivered  a  bot- 
tle of  wine  against  the  flag-pole.  Drums  beat, 
fifes  shrieked  as  for  battle,  and  lusty  cheers  for 
the  king  and  Sieur  Radisson  rang  and  echoed 
and  re-echoed  from  our  crews.  Three  times  did 
Allemand  beat  his  drum  and  three  times  did 
we  cheer.  Then  Pierre  Radisson  raised  his 
sword.  Every  man  dropped  to  knee.  Catholics 
and  Protestants,  Calvinists  and  infidels,  and  riff- 
raff adventurers  who  had  no  religion  but  what 
they  swore  by,  bowed  their  heads  to  the  solemn 
thanks  which  Pierre  Radisson  uttered  for  safe 
deliverance  from  perilous  voyage.* 

That  was  my  first  experience  of  the  fusion 
which  the  New  World  makes  of  Old  World  divi- 
sions.   We  thought  we  had  taken  possession  of 


*  Reference  to  M.  Radisson's  journal  corroborates  Mr. 
Stanhope  in  this  observance,  which  was  never  neglected  by 
M.  Radisson  after  season  of  peril.  It  is  to  be  noted  that  he 
made  his  prayers  after  not  at  the  season  of  peril. 

ICO 


DE  RADISSON  COMES  TO  HIS  OWN 

the  land.  No,  no,  'twas  the  land  had  taken  pos- 
session of  us,  as  the  New  World  ever  does,  fusing 
ancient  hates  and  rearing  a  new^  race,  of  which 
— I  wot — no  prophet  may  dare  too  much! 

"  He  who  twiddles  his  thumbs  may  gnaw  his 
gums,"  M.  Radisson  was  wont  to  say;  and  I 
assure  you  there  was  no  twiddling  of  thumbs 
that  morning.  Bare  had  M.  Radisson  finished 
prayers,  when  he  gave  sharp  command  for  Gro- 
seillers,  his  brother-in-law%  to  look  to  the  build- 
ing of  the  Habitation — as  the  French  called 
their  forts — while  he  himself  would  go  up-stream 
to  seek  the  Indians  for  trade.  Jean  and  Gode- 
froy  and  I  were  sent  to  the  ship  for  a  birch  canoe, 
which  M.  Radisson  had  brought  from  Quebec. 

Our  leader  took  the  bow;  Godefroy,  the 
stern;  Jean  and  I,  the  middle.  A  poise  of  the 
steel-shod  steering  pole,  wx  grasped  our  pad- 
dles, a  downward  dip,  quick  followed  by  Gode- 
froy at  the  stern,  and  out  shot  the  canoe,  swdft, 
light,  lithe,  alert,  like  a  racer  to  the  bit,  with  a 
gurgling  of  waters  below  the  gunwales,  the  keel 
athrob  to  the  swirl  of  a  turbulent  current  and  a 
trail  of  eddies  dimpling  away  on  each  side.  A 
sharp  breeze  sprang  up  abeam,  and  M.  Radisson 
ordered  a  blanket  sail  hoisted  on  the  steersman's 
fishing-pole.  But  if  you  think  that  he  permitted 
idle  paddles  because  a  wind  would  do  the  work, 

lOI 


HERALDS   OF   EMPIRE 

you  know  not  the  ways  of  the  great  explorer. 
He  bade  us  ply  the  faster,  till  the  canoe  sped  be- 
tween earth  and  sky  like  an  arrow  shot  on  the 
level.  The  shore-line  became  a  blur.  Clumps  of 
juniper  and  pine  marched  abreast,  halted  the 
length  of  time  an  eye  could  rest,  and  wheeled 
away.  The  swift  current  raced  to  meet  us.  The 
canoe  jumped  to  mount  the  glossy  waves  raised 
by  the  beam  wind.  An  upward  tilt  of  her  prow, 
and  we  had  skimmed  the  swell  like  a  winged 
thing.  And  all  the  while  M.  Radisson's  eyes 
were  everywhere.  Chips  whirled  past.  There 
were  beaver,  he  said.  Was  the  water  suddenly 
muddied?  Deer  had  flitted  at  our  approach. 
Did  a  fish  rise?  M.  Radisson  predicted  otter; 
and  where  there  were  otter  and  beaver  and  deer, 
there  should  be  Indians. 

As  for  the  rest  of  us,  it  had  gone  to  our 
heads. 

We  were  intoxicated  with  the  wine  of  the 
rugged,  new,  free  life.  Sky  above;  wild  woods 
where  never  foot  had  trod  ;  air  that  drew 
through  the  nostrils  in  thirst  -  quenching 
draughts;  blood  atingle  to  the  laughing  rhythm 
of  the  river — what  wonder  that  youth  leaped  to 
a  fresh  life  from  the  mummified  existence  of  lit- 
tle, old  peoples  in  little,  old  lands? 

We  laughed  aloud  from  fulness  of  life. 

I02 


DE  RADISSON  COMES  TO  HIS  OWN 

Jean  laid  his  paddle  athwart,  ripped  off  his 
buckskin,  and  smiled  back. 

"  Ramsay  feels  as  if  he  had  room  to  stretch 
himself,"  said  he. 

''  Feel!  I  feel  as  if  I  could  run  a  thousand 
miles  and  jump  off  the  ends  of  the  earth " 

"  And  dive  to  the  bottom  of  the  sea  and  har- 
ness whales  and  play  bowling-balls  with  the 
spheres,  you  young  rantipoles,"  added  M.  Radis- 
son  ironically. 

''The  fever  of  the  adventurer,"  said  Jean 
quietly.    "  My  uncle  knows  it." 

I  laughed  again.  ''  I  was  wondering  if  Eli 
Kirke  ever  felt  this  way,"  I  explained. 

''  Pardieu,"  retorted  M.  de  Radisson,  loosen- 
ing his  coat,  ''  if  people  moved  more  and  moped 
less,  they'd  brew  small  bile !  Come,  lads !  Come, 
lads!     We  waste  time!  " 

And  we  were  paddling  again,  in  quick,  light 
strokes,  silent  from  zest,  careless  of  toil,  strenu- 
ous from  love  of  it. 

Once  we  came  to  a  bend  in  the  river  where 
the  current  was  so  strong  that  we  had  dipped 
our  paddles  full  five  minutes  against  the  mill 
race  without  gaining  an  inch.  The  canoe 
squirmed  like  a  hunter  balking  a  hedge,  and 
Jean's  blade  spHntered  off  to  the  handle.  But 
M.  de  Radisson  braced  back  to  Hghten  the  bow; 

103 


HERALDS    OF    EMPIRE 

the  prow  rose,  a  sweep  of  the  paddles,  and  on 
we  sped! 

"  Hard  luck  to  pull  and  not  gain  a  boat 
length,"  observed  Jean. 

''  Harder  luck  not  to  pull,  and  to  be  swept 
back,"  corrected  M.  de  Radisson. 

We  left  the  main  river  to  thread  a  labyrin- 
thine chain  of  waterways,  where  were  portages 
over  brambly  shores  and  slippery  rocks,  with  the 
pace  set  at  a  run  by  M.  de  Radisson.  Jean  and 
I  followed  with  the  pack  straps  across  our  fore- 
heads and  the  provisions  on  our  backs.  Gode- 
froy  brought  up  the  rear  with  the  bark  canoe 
above  his  head. 

At  one  place,  where  we  disembarked,  M.  de 
Radisson  traced  the  sand  with  the  muzzle  of  his 
musket. 

"  A  boot-mark,"  said  he,  drawing  the  faint 
outlines  of  a  footprint,  "  and  egad,  it's  not  a 
man's  foot  either!  " 

"  Impossible!  "  cried  Jean.  "  We  are  a  thou- 
sand miles  from  any  white-man." 

"  There's  nothing  impossible  on  this  earth," 
retorted  Radisson  impatiently.  *'  But  pardieu, 
there  are  neither  white  women  in  this  wilderness, 
nor  ghosts  wearing  women's  boots!  I'd  give  my 
right  hand  to  know  what  left  that  mark!  " 

After   that   his   haste   grew   feverish.     We 

104 


DE  RADISSON  COMES  TO  HIS  OWN 

snatched  our  meals  by  turns  between  paddles. 
He  seemed  to  grudge  the  waste  of  each  night, 
camping  late  and  launching  early;  and  it  was 
Godefroy's  complaint  that  each  portage  was 
made  so  swiftly  there  was  no  time  for  that  solace 
of  the  common  voyageur — the  boatman's  pipe. 
For  eight  days  we  travelled  without  seeing  a 
sign  of  human  presence  but  that  one  vague  foot- 
mark in  the  sand. 

"  If  there  are  no  Indians,  how  much  farther 
do  we  go,  sir?  "  asked  Godefroy  sulkily  on  the 
eighth  day. 

''Till  we  find  them,"  answered  M.  Radis- 

son. 

And  we  found  them  that  night. 

A  deer  broke  from  the  woods  edging  the 
sand  where  we  camped  and  had  almost  bounded 
across  our  fire  when  an  Indian  darted  out  a  hun- 
dred yards  behind.  Mistaking  us  for  his  own 
people,  he  whistled  the  hunter's  signal  to  head 
the  game  back.  Then  he  saw  that  we  were 
strangers.  Pulling  up  of  a  sudden,  he  threw 
back  his  arms,  uttered  a  cry  of  surprise,  and  ran 
to  the  hiding  of  the  bush. 

M.  Radisson  was  the  first  to  pursue;  but 
where  the  sand  joined  the  thicket  he  paused  and 
began  tracing  the  point  of  his  rapier  round  the 
outlines  of  a  mark. 

105 


HERALDS   OF    EMPIRE 

"What  do  you  make  of  it,  Godefroy?  "  he 
demanded  of  the  trader. 

The  trader  looked  quizzically  at  Sieur  de 
Radisson. 

"  The  toes  of  that  man's  moccasin  turn  out," 
says  Godefroy  significantly. 

"  Then  that  man  is  no  Indian,"  retorted  M. 
Radisson,  ''  and  hang  me,  if  the  size  is  not  that 
of  a  woman  or  a  boy!  " 

And  he  led  back  to  the  beach. 

"  Yon  ship  was  a  pirate,"  began  Godefroy, 
"  and  if  buccaneers  be  about " 

"  Hold  your  clack,  fool,"  interrupted  M. 
Radisson,  as  if  the  fellow's  prattle  had  cut  into 
his  mental  plannings;  and  he  bade  us  heap  such 
a  fire  as  could  be  seen  by  Indians  for  a  hundred 
miles.  ''  If  once  I  can  find  the  Indians,"  medi- 
tated he  moodily,  ''  I'll  drive  out  a  whole  regi- 
ment of  scoundrels  with  one  snap  o'  my  thumb!  " 

Black  clouds  rolled  in  from  the  distant  bay, 
boding  a  stormy  night;  and  Godefroy  began  to 
complain  that  black  deeds  were  done  in  the  dark, 
and  we  were  forty  leagues  away  from  the  protec- 
tion of  our  ships. 

''  A  pretty  target  that  fire  will  make  of  us  in 
the  dark,"  whined  the  fellow. 

M.  Radisson's  eyes  glistened  sparks. 

"  I'd  as  lief  be  a  pirate  myself,  as  be  shot 

io6 


DE  RADISSON  COMES  TO  HIS  OWN 

down  by  pirates,"  grumbled  the  trader,  giving 
a  hand  to  hoist  the  shed  of  sheet  canvas  that  was 
to  shield  us  from  the  rains  now  aslant  against 
the  seaward  horizon. 

At  the  words  M.  Radisson  turned  sharply; 
but  the  heedless  fellow  gabbled  on. 

*'  Where  is  a  man  to  take  cover,  an  the 
buccaneers  began  shooting  from  the  bush  be- 
hind? "  demanded  Godefroy  belligerently. 

M.  Radisson  reached  one  arm  across  the  fire. 
''  I'll  show  you,"  said  he.  Taking  Godefroy  by 
the  ear,  with  a  prick  of  the  sword  he  led  the  lazy 
knave  quick  march  to  the  beach,  where  lay  our 
canoe  bottom  up. 

"  Crawl  under!"  ^1.  Radisson  lifted  the  prow. 

From  very  shame — I  think  it  was — Godefroy 
balked;  but  M.  Radisson  brought  a  cutting  rap 
across  the  rascal's  heels  that  made  him  hop. 
The  canoe  clapped  down,  and  Godefroy  was  safe. 

"  Pardieu,"  mutters  Radisson,  ''  such  cow- 
ards would  turn  the  marrow  o'  men's  bones  to 
butter!" 

Sitting  on  a  log,  with  his  feet  to  the  iire,  he 
motioned  Jean  and  me  to  come  into  the  shelter 
of  the  slant  canvas;  for  the  clouds  were  rolling 
overhead  black  as  ink  and  the  wind  roared  up 
the  river-bed  with  a  wall  of  pelting  rain.  M. 
Radisson  gazed  absently  into  the  flame.  The 
8  107 


HERALDS    OF   EMPIRE 

steel  lights  were  at  play  in  his  eyes,  and  his  lips 
parted. 

"  Storm  and  cold — man  and  beast — powers 
of  darkness  and  devil — knaves  and  fools  and  his 
own  sins — he  must  fight  them  all,  lads,"  says  M. 
Radisson  slowly. 

"  Who  must  fight  them  all?  "  asks  Jean. 

"  The  victor,"  answers  Radisson,  and  warm 
red  flashed  to  the  surface  of  the  cold  steel  in  his 
eyes. 

"  Jean,"  he  began,  looking  up  quickly  to- 
wards the  gathering  darkness  of  the  woods. 

"  Sir?  " 

**  'Tis  cold  enough  for  hunters  to  want  a 
fire." 

'*  Is  the  fire  not  big  enough?  " 

"  Now,  where  are  your  wits,  lad?  If  hunters 
were  hiding  in  that  bush,  one  could  see  this  fire 
a  long  way  off.  The  wind  is  loud.  One  could 
go  close  without  being  heard.  Pardieu,  I'll 
wager  a  good  scout  could  creep  up  to  a  log  like 
this  " — touching  the  pine  on  which  we  sat — 
"  and  hear  every  word  we  are  saying  without  a 
soul  being  the  wiser!  " 

Jean  turned  with  a  start,  half-suspecting  a 
spy.     Radisson  laughed. 

"  Must  I  spell  it  out?     Eh,  lad,   afraid  to 


go? 


loS 


DE  RADISSOX  COMES  TO  HIS  OWN 

The  taunt  bit  home.  Without  a  word  Jean 
and  I  rose. 

"  Keep  far  enough  apart  so  that  one  of  you 
will  escape  back  with  the  news,"  called  Radis- 
son,  as  we  plunged  into  the  woods. 

Of  the  one  who  might  not  escape  Pierre 
Radisson  gave  small  heed,  and  so  did  we.  Jean 
took  the  river  side  and  I  the  inland  thicket,  feel- 
ing our  way  blindly  through  the  blackness  of  for- 
est and  storm  and  night.  Then  the  rain  broke 
— broke  in  lashing  whip-cords  with  the  crackle 
of  fire.  Jean  whistled  and  I  signalled  back;  but 
there  was  soon  such  a  pounding  of  rains  it 
drowned  every  sound.  For  all  the  help  one 
could  give  the  other  we  might  have  been  a  thou- 
sand miles  apart.  I  looked  back.  'M.  Radisson's 
fire  threw  a  dull  glare  into  the  cavernous  upper 
darkness.  That  was  guide  enough.  Jean  could 
keep  his  course  by  the  river. 

It  was  plunging  into  a  black  nowhere.  The 
trees  thinned.  I  seemed  to  be  running  across 
the  open,  the  rain  driving  me  for^vard  Uke  a 
wet  sail,  a  roar  of  wind  in  my  ears  and  the  words 
of  ]\I.  Radisson  ringing  their  battle-cry — 
"  Storm  and  cold — man  and  beast — powers  of 
darkness  and  devil — knaves  and  fools  and  his 
own  sins — he  must  fight  them  all  I  " — "  Who?  " 
—"The  victor!" 

109 


HERALDS    OF   EMPIRE 

Of  a  sudden  the  dripping  thicket  gave  back 
a  gHnt.  Had  I  run  in  a  circle  and  come  again 
on  M.  Radisson's  fire?  Behind,  a  dim  glare  still 
shone  against  the  sky. 

Another  glint  from  the  rain  drip,  and  I 
dropped  like  a  deer  hit  on  the  run.  Not  a  gun- 
shot away  was  a  hunter's  fire.  Against  the  fire 
were  three  figures.  One  stood  with  his  face  to- 
wards me,  an  Indian  dressed  in  buckskin,  the 
man  w'ho  had  pursued  the  deer.  The  second  was 
hid  by  an  intervening  tree;  and  as  I  w-atched, 
the  third  faded  into  the  phaseless  dark.  Who 
w^ere  these  night-watchers?  I  liked  not  that 
business  of  spying — though  you  may  call  it 
scouting,  if  you  will,  but  I  must  either  report 
nothing  to  M.  Radisson,  or  find  out  more. 

I  turned  to  skirt  the  group.  A  pistol-shot 
rang  through  the  wood.  A  sword  fiashed  to 
light.  Before  I  had  time  to  think,  but  not — 
thanks  to  ]\I.  Picot's  lessons  long  ago — not  be- 
fore I  had  my  own  rapier  out,  an  assassin  blade 
would  have  taken  me  unawares. 

I  w^as  on  guard.  Steel  struck  fire  in  red  spots 
as  it  clashed  against  steel.  One  thrust,  I  know, 
touched  home;  for  the  pistol  went  whirling  out 
of  my  adversary's  hand,  and  his  sword  came 
through  the  dark  with  the  hiss  of  a  serpent. 
Again  I  seemed  to  be  in  Boston  Town;  but  the 

no 


DE  RADISSON  COMES  TO  HIS  OWN 

hunting  room  had  become  a  northland  forest,  M. 
Picot,  a  bearded  man  with  his  back  to  the  fire 
and  his  face  in  the  dark,  and  our  shm  foils,  naked 
swords  that  pressed  and  parried  and  thrust  in 
many  a  foul  such  as  the  French  doctor  had 
taught  me  was  a  trick  of  the  infamous  Blood! 
Indeed,  I  could  have  sworn  that  a  woman's  voice 
cried  out  through  the  dark;  but  the  rain  was  in 
my  face  and  a  sword  striking  red  against  my 
own.  Thanks,  yes,  thanks  a  thousand  times  to 
M.  Picot's  lessons;  for  again  and  yet  again  I 
foiled  that  lunge  of  the  unscrupulous  swordsman 
till  I  heard  my  adversary  swearing  between 
clinched  teeth.  He  retreated.  I  followed.  By 
a  dexterous  spring  he  put  himself  under  cover  of 
the  woods,  leaving  me  in  the  open.  My  only 
practice  in  swordsmanship  had  been  with  M.  Pi- 
cot,  and  it  was  not  till  long  years  after  that  I 
minded  how  those  lessons  seemed  to  forestall 
and  counter  the  moves  of  that  ambushed  assas- 
sin. But  the  baffling  thing  w^as  that  my  enemy's 
moves  countered  mine  in  the  very  same  way. 

He  had  not  seen  my  face,  for  my  back  was 
turned  when  he  came  up,  and  my  face  in  the 
shade  when  I  whirled.  But  I  stood  between  the 
dark  and  the  fire.  Every  motion  of  mine  he  could 
forecast,  while  I  could  but  parry  and  retreat, 
striving  in  vain  to  lure  him  out,  to  get  into  the 

III 


HERALDS   OF   EMPIRE 

dark,  to  strike  what  I  could  not  see,  pushed  back 
and  back  till  I  felt  the  rush  that  aims  not  to  dis- 
arm but  to  slay. 

Our  weapons  rang  with  a  glint  of  green 
lightnings.  A  piece  of  steel  fiew  up.  My  rapier 
had  snapped  short  at  the  hilt.  A  cold  point  was 
at  my  throat  pressing  me  down  and  back  as  the 
foil  had  caught  me  that  night  in  M.  Picot's 
house.  To  right,  to  left,  I  swerved,  the  last  blind 
rushes  of  the  fugitive  man.  .  .  . 

"  Storm  and  cold — man  and  beast — powers 
of  darkness  and  devil — he  must  fight  them 
all " 

The  memory  of  those  words  spurred  like  a 
battle-cry.  Beaten?  Not  yet!  '' Leap  to  meet 
it!     Leap  to  meet  it!  " 

I  caught  the  blade  at  my  throat  with  a  naked 
hand.  Hot  floods  drenched  my  face.  The  earth 
swam.  We  were  both  in  the  light  now,  a  bearded 
man  pushing  his  sword  through  my  hand,  and  I 
falling  down.  Then  my  antagonist  leaped  back 
with  a  shivering  cry  of  horror,  flung  the  weapon 
to  the  ground  and  fled  into  the  dark. 

And  when  I  sat  up  my  right  hand  held  the 
hilt  of  a  broken  rapier,  the  left  was  gashed  across 
the  palm,  and  a  sword  as  like  my  own  as  two 
peas  lay  at  my  feet. 

The  fire  was  there.    But  I  was  alone. 

112 


CHAPTER    IX 

VISITORS 

The  fire  had  every  appearance  of  a  night  biv- 
ouac, but  there  was  remnant  of  neither  camp 
nor  hunt.  Somewhere  on  my  left  lay  the  river. 
By  that  the  way  led  back  to  Al.  Radisson's  ren- 
dezvous. It  was  risky  enough — that  threading 
of  the  pathless  woods  through  the  pitchy  dark; 
but  he  who  pauses  to  measure  the  risk  at  each 
tread  is  ill  fitted  to  pioneer  wild  lands. 

Who  the  assassin  was  and  why  he  had  so 
suddenly  desisted,  I  knew  no  more  than  you  do! 
That  he  had  attacked  was  natural  enough;  for 
whoever  took  first  possession  of  no-man's-land 
in  those  days  either  murdered  his  rivals  or  sold 
them  to  slavery.  But  why  had  he  flung  his 
sword  down  at  the  moment  of  victory? 

The  pelting  of  the  rain  softened  to  a  leafy 
patter,  the  patter  to  a  drip,  and  a  watery  moon 
came  glimmering  through  the  clouds.  With  my 
enemy's  rapier  in  hand  I  began  cutting  a  course 
through  the  thicket.     Radisson's  fire  no  longer 

113 


HERALDS    OF    EMPIRE 

shone.  Indeed,  I  became  mighty  uncertain  which 
direction  to  take,  for  the  rush  of  the  river 
merged  with  the  beating  of  the  wdnd.  The 
ground  sloped  precipitously;  and  I  was  holding 
back  by  the  underbrush  lest  the  bank  led  to 
water  when  an  indistinct  sound,  a  smothery 
murmur  like  the  gurgle  of  a  subterranean  pool, 
came  from  below. 

The  wind  fell.  The  swirl  of  the  flowing  river 
sounded  far  from  the  rear.  I  had  become  con- 
fused and  was  travelling  away  from  the  true 
course.    But  what  was  that  sound? 

I  threw  a  stick  forward.  It  struck  hard 
stone.  At  the  same  instant  was  a  sibilant, 
human — distinctly  human — "  Hss-h,"  and  the 
sound  had  ceased. 

That  was  no  laving  of  inland  pond  against 
pebbles.  Make  of  it  what  you  will — there  were 
voices,  smothered  but  talking.  "  No — no — no  " 
.  .  .  then  the  warning  .  .  .  ''Hush!"  .  .  . 
then  the  wind  and  the  river  and  .  .  .  "  No — 
no!"  with  words  like  oaths.  ..."  No — I  say, 
no!  Having  come  so  far,  no! — not  if  it  were  my 
own  brother!"  .  .  .  then  the  low  ''Hush!" 
.  .  .  and  pleadings  .  .  .  then — "  Send  Le 
Borgne!" 

And  an  Indian  had  rushed  past  me  in  the 
dark  with  a  pine  fagot  in  his  hand. 

114 


VISITORS 

Rising,  I  stole  after  him.  'Twas  the  fel- 
low who  had  been  at  the  fire  with  that  unknown 
assailant.  He  paused  over  the  smouldering  em- 
bers, searching  the  ground,  found  the  hilt  of  the 
broken  sword,  lifted  the  severed  blade,  kicked 
leaves  over  all  traces  of  conflict,  and  extin- 
guishing the  fire,  carried  off  the  broken  weapon. 
An  Indian  can  pick  his  way  over  known  ground 
without  a  torcli.  What  was  this  fellow  doing 
with  a  torch?  Had  he  been  sent  for  me?  I  drew 
back  in  shadow  to  let  him  pass.  Then  I  ran 
with  all  speed  to  the  river. 

Gray  dawn  came  over  the  trees  as  I  reached 
the  swollen  waters,  and  the  sun  was  high  in  mid- 
heaven  when  I  came  to  the  gravel  patch  where 
M.  de  Radisson  had  camped.  Round  a  sharp 
bend  in  the  river  a  strange  sight  unfolded. 

A  score  of  crested  savages  with  painted  bod- 
ies sat  on  the  ground.  In  the  centre,  clad  like  a 
king,  with  purple  doublet  and  plumed  hat  and 
velvet  waistcoat  ablaze  with  medals  of  honour 
— was  M.  Radisson.  One  hand  deftly  held  his 
scabbard  forward  so  that  the  jewelled  hilt  shone 
against  the  velvet,  and  the  other  was  raised  im- 
pressively above  the  savages.  How  had  he  made 
the  savages  come  to  him?  How  are  some  men 
born  to  draw  all  others  as  the  sea  draws  the 
streams? 

"5 


HERALDS    OF   EMPIRE 

The  poor  creatures  had  piled  their  robes  at 
his  feet  as  offerings  to  a  god. 

"  What  did  he  give  for  the  pelts,  Godefroy?  " 
I  asked. 

''  Words!  "  says  Godefroy,  with  a  grin,  "  gab 
and  a  drop  o'  rum  diluted  in  a  pot  o'  water!  '* 

'*  What  is  he  saying  to  them  now?  " 

Godefroy  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  That 
the  gods  have  sent  him  a  messenger  to  them; 
that  the  fire  he  brings  " — he  was  handing  a 
musket  to  the  chief — "  will  smite  the  Indians* 
enemy  from  the  earth;  that  the  bullet  is  magic 
to  outrace  the  fleetest  runner  " — this  as  M.  Ra- 
disson  fired  a  shot  into  mid-air  that  sent  the  In- 
dians into  ecstasies  of  childish  wonder — ''  that 
the  bottle  in  his  hands  contains  death,  and  if 
the  Indians  bring  their  hunt  to  the  white-man, 
the  white-man  will  never  take  the  cork  out  ex- 
cept to  let  death  fly  at  the  Indians'  enemy  " — 
he  lifted  a  little  phial  of  poison  as  he  spoke — 
"  that  the  Indian  need  never  feel  cold  nor  thirst, 
now  that  the  white-man  has  brought  fire- 
water!" 

At  this  came  a  harsh  laugh  from  a  taciturn 
Indian  standing  on  the  outer  rim  of  the  crowd. 
It  was  the  fellow  who  had  run  through  the  forest 
with  the  torch. 

"  Who  is  that,  Godefroy?  '' 

ii6 


VISITORS 

"  Le  Borgne." 

"  Le  Borgne  need  not  laugh,"  retorted  M. 
de  Radisson  sharply.  "  Le  Borgne  knows  the 
taste  of  fire-water!  Le  Borgne  has  been  with 
the  white-man  at  the  south,  and  knows  what  the 
white-man  says  is  true." 

But  Le  Borgne  only  laughed  the  harder, 
deep,  guttural,  contemptuous  "huh — huh's!" 
— a  fitting  rebuke,  methought,  for  the  ignoble 
deception  implied  in  yi.  Radisson's  words. 

Indeed,  I  would  fain  suppress  this  part  of  M. 
Radisson's  record,  for  he  juggled  with  truth  so 
oft,  when  he  thought  the  end  justified  the  means, 
he  finally  got  a  knack  of  juggling  so  much  with 
truth  that  the  means  would  never  justify  any 
end.  I  would  fain  repress  the  ignoble  faults  of 
a  noble  leader,  but  I  must  even  set  down  the 
facts  as  they  are,  so  you  may  see  w'hy  a  man 
who  was  the  greatest  leader  and  trader  and  ex- 
plorer of  his  times  reaped  only  an  aftermath  of 
universal  distrust.  He  lied  his  way  through 
thick  and  thin — as  we  traders  used  to  say — till 
that  lying  habit  of  his  sewed  him  up  in  a  net  of 
his  own  weaving  like  a  grub  in  a  cocoon. 

Godefroy  was  giving  a  hand  to  bind  up  my 
gashed  palm  w'hen  something  grunted  a  "  huff- 
huff  "  beside  us.  Le  Borgne  was  there  with  a 
queer  look  on  his  inscrutable  face. 

117 


HERALDS    OF   EMPIRE 

"  Le  Borgne,  you  rascal,  you  know  who  gave 
me  this,"  I  began,  taking  careful  scrutiny  of  the 
Indian. 

One  eye  was  glazed  and  sightless,  the  other 
yellow  like  a  fox's;  but  the  fellow  was  straight, 
supple,  and  clean-timbered  as  a  fresh-hewn  mast. 
With  a  *'  huh-huh,"  he  gabbled  back  some  an- 
swer. 

"  What  does  he  say,  Godefroy?  " 

"  He  says  he  doesn't  understand  the  white- 
man's  tongue — which  is  a  lie,"  added  Godefroy 
of  his  own  account.  "  Le  Borgne  was  inter- 
preter for  the  Fur  Company  at  the  south  of  the 
bay  the  year  that  M.  Radisson  left  the  English." 

Were  my  assailants,  then,  Hudson's  Bay 
Company  men  come  up  from  the  south  end  of 
James  Bay?  Certainly,  the  voice  had  spoken 
English.  I  would  have  drawn  Godefroy  aside  to 
inform  him  of  my  adventure,  but  Le  Borgne 
stuck  to  us  like  a  burr.  Jean  was  busy  helping 
M.  de  Radisson  at  the  trade,  or  what  was  called 
"  trade,"  when  white  men  gave  an  awl  for  forty 
beaver-skins. 

*'  Godefroy,"  I  said,  "  keep  an  eye  on  this  In- 
dian till  I  speak  to  ^I.  de  Radisson."  And  I 
turned  to  the  group.  'Twas  as  pretty  a  bit  of 
colour  as  I  have  ever  seen.  The  sea,  like  silver, 
on  one  side;  the  autumn-tinted  woods,  brown 

Ii8 


VISITORS 

and  yellow  and  gold,  on  the  other;  M.  de  Radis- 
son  in  his  gay  dress  surrounded  by  a  score  of 
savages  with  their  faces  and  naked  chests  painted 
a  gaudy  red,  headgear  of  swans'  down,  eagle 
quills  depending  from  their  backs,  and  buckskin 
trousers  fringed  with  the  scalp-locks  of  the 
slain. 

Drawing  INI.  de  Radisson  aside,  I  gave  him 
hurried  account  of  the  night's  adventures. 

''  Ha!  "  says  he.  "  Not  Hudson's  Bay  Com- 
pany men,  or  you  would  be  in  irons,  lad!  Not 
French,  for  they  spoke  Enghsh.  Pardieu  ! 
Poachers  and  thieves — we  shall  see!  Where  is 
that  vagabond  Cree?  These  people  are  south- 
ern Indians  and  know  nothing  of  him. — Gode- 
froy,"  he  called. 

Godefroy  came  running  up.  "  Le  Borgne's 
gone,"  said  Godefroy  breathlessly. 

''  Gone?  "  repeated  Radisson. 

"  He  left  word  for  Master  Stanhope  from  one 
who  wishes  him  well " 

"  One  who  wishes  him  well,"  repeated  ]M. 
Radisson,  looking  askance  at  me. 

"  For  Master  Stanhope  not  to  be  bitten 
twice  by  the  same  dog!  " 

Our  amazement  you  may  guess:  ]\I.  de  Ra- 
disson, suspicious  of  treachery  and  private  trade 
and  piracy  on  my  part;  I  as  surprised  to  learn 

119 


HERALDS    OF   EMPIRE 

that  I  had  a  well-wisher  as  I  had  been  to  dis- 
cover an  unknown  foe;  and  Godefroy,  all  cock- 
a-whoop  with  his  news,  as  is  the  way  of  the 
vulgar. 

"  Ramsay,"  said  M.  Radisson,  speaking  very 
low  and  tense,  ''  as  you  hope  to  live  and  without 
a  lie,  what — does — this — mean?  " 

'*  Sir,  as  I  hope  to  live — I — do — not — 
know!  " 

He  continued  to  search  me  with  doubting 
looks.    I  raised  my  wounded  hand. 

"  Will  you  do  me  the  honour  to  satisfy  your- 
self that  wound  is  genuine?  " 

"Pish!"  says  he. 

He  studied  the  ground.  "  There's  nothing 
impossible  on  this  earth.  Facts  are  hard  dogs  to 
down. — Jean,"  he  called,  "gather  up  the  pelts! 
It  takes  a  man  to  trade  well,  but  any  fool  can 
make  fools  drink!  Godefroy — give  the  knaves 
the  rum — but  mind  yourselves,"  he  warned, 
"three  parts  rain-water!"  Then  facing  me, 
"  Take  me  to  that  bank!  " 

He  followed  without  comment. 

At  the  place  of  the  camp-fire  were  marks  of 
the  struggle. 

"The  same  boot-prints  as  on  the  sand!  A 
small  man,"  observed  Radisson. 

But  when  we  came  to  the  sloping  bank, 

120 


VISITORS 

where  the  land  fell  sheer  away  to  a  dry,  pebbly 
reach,  M.  Radisson  pulled  a  puzzled  brow. 

'*  They  must  have  taken  shelter  from  the 
rain.    They  must  have  been  under  your  feet." 

*'  But  where  are  their  foot-marks?  "  I  asked. 

"  Washed  out  by  the  rain,"  said  he;  but  that 
was  one  of  the  untruths  with  which  a  man  who 
is  ever  telling  untruths  sometimes  deceives  him- 
self; for  if  the  bank  sheltered  the  intruders  from 
the  rain,  it  also  sheltered  their  foot-marks,  and 
there  was  not  a  trace. 

''  All  the  same,"  said  M.  de  Radisson,  "  we 
shall  make  these  Indians  our  friends  by  taking 
them  back  to  the  fort  with  us." 

''  Ramsay,"  he  remarked  on  the  way, 
"  there's  a  game  to  play." 

"  So  it  seems." 
•      "  Hold  yourself  in,"  said  he  sentcntiously. 

I  walked  on  listening. 

"  One  plays  as  your  friend,  the  other  as 
your  foe!  Show  neither  friend  nor  foe  your 
hand!  Let  the  game  tell!  'Twas  the  reined-in 
horse  won  King  Charles's  stakes  at  Newmarket 
last  year!     Hold  yourself  in,  I  say!" 

"  In,"  I  repeated,  wondering  at  this  homily. 

''And  hold  yourself  up,"  he  continued. 
''That  coxcomb  of  a  marquis  always  trailing 
his  dignity  in  the  dust  of  mid-road  to  worry  with 

121 


HERALDS    OF   EMPIRE 

a  common  dog  like  La  Chesnaye — pish!  Hold 
your  self-respect  in  the  chest  of  your  jacket, 
man!  Tis  the  slouching  nag  that  loses  the 
race!    Hold  yourself  up!  " 

His  words  seemed  hard  sense  plain  spoken. 

''  And  let  your  feet  travel  on,"  he  added. 

"  In  and  up  and  on!  "  I  repeated. 

"  In  and  up  and  on — there's  mettle  for  you, 
lad!" 

And  with  that  terse  text — which,  I  think, 
comprehended  the  whole  of  M.  Radisson's  phi- 
losophy— we  were  back  at  the  beach. 

The  Indians  were  not  in  such  a  state  as  I  have 
seen  after  many  a  trading  bout.  They  were  able 
to  accompany  us.  In  embarking,  M.  Radisson 
must  needs  observe  all  the  ceremony  of  two 
races.  Such  a  whiffing  of  pipes  among  the  state- 
ly, half-drunk  Indian  chiefs  you  never  saw,  with 
a  pompous  proffering  of  the  stem  to  the  four 
corners  of  the  compass,  which  they  thought 
would  propitiate  the  spirits.  Jean  blew  a  blast 
on  the  trumpet.  I  waved  the  French  flag. 
Godefroy  beat  a  rattling  fusillade  on  the  drum, 
grabbed  up  his  bobbing  tipstaff,  led  the  way; 
and  down  we  filed  to  the  canoes. 

At  all  this  ostentation  I  could  not  but  smile; 
but  no  man  ever  had  greater  need  of  pomp  to 
hold  his  own  against  uneven  odds  than  Radisson. 

122 


VISITORS 

As  we  were  leaving  came  a  noise  that  set  us 
all  by  the  ears — the  dull  booming  reverberations 
of  heavy  cannonading. 

The  Indians  shook  as  with  palsy.  Jean  Gro- 
seillers  cried  out  that  his  father's  ships  were  in 
peril.  Godefroy  implored  the  saints;  but  with 
that  lying  facility  which  was  his  doom,  M.  de 
Radisson  blandly  informed  the  savages  that 
more  of  his  vessels  had  arrived  from  France. 

Bidding  Jean  go  on  to  the  Habitation  with 
the  Indians,  he  took  the  rest  of  us  ashore  with 
one  redskin  as  guide,  to  spy  out  the  cause  of  the 
firing. 

"  Twill  be  a  pretty  to-do  if  the  English  Fur 
Company's  ships  arrive  before  we  have  a  French 
fort  ready  to  welcome  them,"  said  he. 


123 


CHAPTER   X 

THE    CAUSE    OF   THE   FIRING 

The  landing  was  but  a  part  of  the  labyrin- 
thine trickery  in  which  our  leader  delighted  to 
play;  for  while  Jean  delayed  the  natives  we  ran 
overland  through  the  woods,  launched  our  canoe 
far  ahead  of  the  Indian  flotilla,  and  went  racing 
forward  to  the  throbs  of  the  leaping  river. 

"  If  a  man  would  win,  he  must  run  fast  as  the 
hour-glass,"  observed  M.  Radisson,  poising  his 
steering-pole.  ''  And  now,  my  brave  lads,"  he 
began,  counting  in  quick,  sharp  words  that  rang 
with  command,  "keep  time — one — two — three! 
One — two — three!"  And  to  each  word  the 
paddles  dipped  with  the  speed  of  a  fly-wheel's 
spokes. 

"  One — two — three!  In  and  up  and  on! 
An  you  keep  yourselves  in  hand,  men,  you  can 
win  against  the  devil's  own  artillery!  Speed 
to  your  strokes,  Godefroy,"  he  urged. 

And  the  canoe  answered  as  a  fine-strung 
racer  to  the  spur.    Shore-Hnes  blurred  to  a  green 

124 


THE   CAUSE   OF   THE   FIRING 

streak.  The  frosty  air  met  our  faces  in  wind. 
Gurgling  waters  curled  from  the  prow  in  corru- 
gated runnels.  And  we  were  running  a  swift 
race  with  a  tumult  of  waves,  mounting  the  swell, 
dipping,  rising  buoyant,  forward  in  bounds,  with 
a  roar  of  the  nearing  rapids,  and  spray  dashing 
athwart  in  drifts.  M.  Radisson  braced  back. 
The  prow  lifted,  shot  into  mid-air,  touched  water 
again,  and  went  whirling  through  the  mill-race 
that  boiled  below  a  waterfall.  Once  the  canoe 
aimed  straight  as  an  arrow  for  rocks  in  mid- 
current.  M.  Radisson's  steel-shod  pole  flashed 
in  the  sun.  There  was  a  quick  thrust,  answered 
by  Godefroy's  counter-stroke  at  the  stern;  and 
the  canoe  grazed  past  the  rocks  not  a  hair's- 
breadth  off. 

"  Sainte  Anne  ha'  mercy!  "  mumbled  Gode- 
froy,  baling  water  from  the  canoe  as  we  breasted 
a  turn  in  the  river  to  calmer  currents,  ''  Sainte 
Anne  ha'  mercy!  But  the  master'd  run  us  over 
Niagara,  if  he  had  a  mind." 

"  Or  the  River  Styx,  if  'twould  gain  his  end," 
sharply  added  Radisson. 

But  he  ordered  our  paddles  athwart  for 
snatched  rest,  while  he  himself  kept  alert  at  the 
bow.  With  the  rash  presumption  of  youth,  I  of- 
fered to  take  the  bow  that  he  might  rest;  but 
he   threw   his   head   back   wuth   a   loud   laugh, 

12=; 


HERALDS    OF   EMPIRE 

more  of  scorn  than  mirth,  and  bade  me  nurse  a 
wounded  hand.  On  the  evening  of  the  third 
day  we  came  to  the  Habitation.  Without 
disembarking,  M.  de  Radisson  sent  the  sol- 
diers on  sentinel  duty  at  the  river  front  up 
to  the  fort  with  warning  to  prepare  for  instant 
siege. 

''  'Twill  put  speed  in  the  lazy  rascals  to  finish 
the  fort,"  he  remarked;  and  the  canoe  glided 
out  to  mid-current  again  for  the  far  expanse  of 
the  bay. 

By  this  we  were  all  so  used  to  M.  Radisson's 
doings,  'twould  not  have  surprised  us  when  the 
craft  shot  out  from  river-mouth  to  open  sea  if 
he  had  ordered  us  to  circumnavigate  the  ocean 
on  a  chip. 

He  did  what  was  nigh  as  venturesome. 

A  quick,  unwarned  swerve  of  his  pole,  which 
bare  gave  Godefroy  time  to  take  the  cue,  and 
our  prow  went  scouring  across  the  scud  of  whip- 
ping currents  where  two  rivers  and  an  ocean- 
tide  met.  The  seething  waves  lashed  to  foam 
with  the  long,  low  moan  of  the  world-devouring 
serpent  which,  legend  says,  is  ever  an-hungering 
to  devour  voyageurs  on  life's  sea.  And  for  all 
the  world  that  reef  of  combing  breakers  was  not 
unlike  a  serpent  type  of  malignant  elements 
bent  on  man's  destruction! 

126 


THE    CAUSE   OF   THE    FIRING 

Then,  to  the  amaze  of  us  all,  we  had  left  the 
lower  river.  The  canoe  was  cutting  up-stream 
against  a  new  current;  and  the  moan  of  the 
pounding  surf  receded  to  the  rear.  Clouds  blew 
inland,  mufiling  the  moon;  and  ]\I.  Radisson  or- 
dered us  ashore  for  the  night.  Feet  at  a  smoul- 
dering fire  too  dull  for  an  enemy  to  see  and  heads 
pillowed  on  logs,  we  bivouacked  with  the  frosty 
ground  for  bed. 

'*  Bad  beds  make  good  risers,"  was  all  M. 
Radisson's  comfort,  when  Godefroy  grumbled 
out  some  complaint. 

A  hard  master,  vou  sav?  A  wise  one,  say  I, 
for  the  forces  he  fought  in  that  desolate  land 
were  as  adamant.  Only  the  man  dauntless  as 
adamant  could  conquer.  And  you  must  remem- 
ber, while  the  diamond  and  the  charcoal  are  of 
the  same  family,  'tis  the  diamond  has  lustre,  be- 
cause it  is  ]mrd.  Faults,  ]\I.  Radisson  had,  w'hich 
were  almost  crimes;  but  look  you  who  judge 
him — his  faults  were  not  the  faults  of  nearly  all 
other  men,  the  faults  which  are  a  crime — the 
crime  of  being  zveakl 

The  first  thing  our  eyes  lighted  on  when  the 
sun  rose  in  flaming  darts  through  the  gray  haze 
of  dawn  was  a  half-built  fort  on  an  island  in  mid- 
river.  At  the  water  side  lay  a  queer-rigged  brig- 
antine,  rocking  to  the  swell  of  the  tide.     Here, 

127 


HERALDS    OF   EMPIRE 

then,  was  cause  of  that  firing  heard  across  the 
marsh  on  the  lower  river. 

''  'Tis  the  pirate  ship  we  saw  on  the  high  sea," 
muttered  Godefroy,  rubbing  his  eyes. 

**  She  flies  no  flag!  She  has  no  Hcense  to 
trade!  She's  a  poacher!  She  will  make  a  prize 
W'Orth  the  taking,"  added  M.  Radisson  sharply. 
Then,  as  if  to  justify  that  intent — "  As  zve  have 
no  license,  we  must  either  take  or  be  taken!  " 

The  river  mist  gradually  lifted,  and  there 
emerged  from  the  fog  a  stockaded  fort  with  two 
bastions  facing  the  river  and  guns  protruding 
from  loopholes. 

"  Not  so  easy  to  take  that  fort,"  growled 
Godefroy,  who  was  ever  a  hanger-back. 

"All  the  better,"  retorted  ^I.  de  Radisson. 
"  Easy  taking  makes  soft  men!  'Twill  test  your 
mettle!" 

"  Test  our  mettle! "  sulked  the  trader,  a  key 
higher  in  his  obstinacy.  "  All  very  well  to  talk, 
sir,  but  how  can  we  take  a  fort  mounted  with 
twenty  cannon " 

"  I'll  tell  you  tJie  hozu  when  it's  done,"  inter- 
rupted M.  de  Radisson. 

But  Godefroy  was  one  of  those  obstinates 
who  would  be  silent  only  when  stunned. 

"  I'd  like  to  know,  sir,  what  we're  to  do,"  he 
began. 

128 


THE    CAUSE    OF   THE    FIRING 

"  Godefroy,  'twould  be  waste  time  to  knock 
sense  in  your  pate!  There  is  only  one  thing  to 
do  always — only  one,  the  right  thing!  Do  it, 
fool!  An  I  hear  more  clack  from  you  till  its 
done,  I'll  have  your  tongue  out  with  the  nip- 
pers! " 

Godefroy  cowered  sulkily  back,  and  M.  de 
Radisson  laughed. 

"That  will  quell  him,"  said  he.  ''When 
Godefroy's  tongue  is  out  he  can't  grumble,  and 
grumbling  is  his  bread  of  life!  " 

Stripping  off  his  bright  doublet,  M.  Radisson 
huns:  it  from  a  tree  to  attract  the  fort's  notice. 
Then  he  posted  us  in  ambuscade  with  orders  to 
capture  whatever  came. 

But  nothing  came. 

And  when  the  fort  guns  boomed  out  the 
noon  hour  M.  Radisson  sprang  up  all  impa- 
tience. 

"  I'll  wait  no  man's  time,"  he  vowed.  ''  Los- 
ing time  is  losing  the  game!    Launch  out!  " 

Chittering  something  about  our  throats  be- 
ing cut,  Godefroy  shrank  back.  With  a  quick 
stride  M.  Radisson  was  tow-ering  above  him. 
Catching  Godefroy  by  the  scruff  of  the  neck,  he 
threw  him  face  down  into  the  canoe,  muttering 
out  it  would  be  small  loss  if  all  the  cowards  in  the 
world  had  their  throats  cut. 

129 


HERALDS   OF    EMPIRE 

"  The  pirates  come  to  trade,"  he  explained. 
"  They  will  not  fire  at  Indians.  Bind  your  hair 
back  like  that  Indian  there!  " 

No  sooner  were  we  in  the  range  of  the  fort 
than  M.  Radisson  uttered  the  shrill  call  of  a  na- 
tive, bade  our  Indian  stand  up,  and  himself  en- 
acted the  pantomime  of  a  savage,  waving  his 
arms,  whistling,  and  hallooing.  With  cries  of 
welcome,  the  fort  people  ran  to  the  shore  and 
left  their  guns  unmanned.  Reading  from  a  syl- 
lable book,  they  shouted  out  Indian  words.  It 
was  safe  to  approach.  Before  they  could  arm 
we  could  escape.  But  we  were  two  men,  one 
lad,  and  a  neutral  Indian  against  an  armed 
garrison  in  a  land  where  killing  was  no 
murder. 

M.  de  Radisson  stood  up  and  called  in  the 
Indian  tongue.    They  did  not  understand. 

'*  New  to  it,"  commented  Radisson,  "  not 
the  Hudson's  Bay  Company!  " 

All  the  while  he  was  imperceptibly  approach- 
ing nearer.  He  shouted  in  French.  They  shook 
their  heads. 

"  English  highv.'aymen,  blundered  in  here  by 
chance,"  said  he. 

Tearing  off  the  Indian  head-band  of  dis- 
guise, he  demanded  in  mighty  peremptory  tones 
who  tliey  were. 

130 


THE   CAUSE    OF   THE    FIRING 

''  English,"  they  called  back  doubtfully. 

"  What  have  you  come  for?  "  insisted  Radis- 
son,  with  a  great  sweUing  of  his  chest. 

''  The  beaver  trade,"  came  a  faint  voice. 

Where  had  I  heard  it  before?  Did  it  rise 
from  the  ground  in  the  woods,  or  from  a  far 
memory  of  children  throwing  a  bully  into  the 
sea? 

*'  I  demand  to  see  your  license,"  boldly  chal- 
lenged Radisson. 

At  that  the  fellows  ashore  put  their  heads 
together. 

"'  In  the  name  of  the  king,  I  demand  to  see 
your  Ucense  instantly,"  repeated  Sieur  de  Radis- 
son, with  louder  authority. 

"  We  have  no  license,"  explained  one  of  the 
men,  who  was  dressed  with  slashed  boots,  red 
doublet,  and  cocked  hat. 

M.  Radisson  smiled  and  poled  a  length 
closer. 

''  A  ship  without  a  license!  A  prize — for  the 
taking!  If  the  rascals  complain — the  galleys  for 
life!"  and  he  laughed  softly. 

"  This  coast  is  possessed  by  the  King  of 
France,"  he  shouted.  ''  We  have  a  strong  garri- 
son! We  mistook  your  firing  for  more  French 
ships!"  Shaping  his  hands  trumpet  fashion  to 
his  mouth,  he  called  this  out  again,  adding  that 

131 


HERALDS   OF    EMPIRE 

our  Indian  was  of  a  nation  in  league  with  the 
French. 

The  pirates  were  dumb  as  if  he  had  tossed  a 
hand  grenade  among  them. 

"  The  ship  is  ours  now,  lads,"  said  Radisson 
softly,  poUng  nearer.  *'  See,  lads,  the  bottom 
has  tumbled  from  their  courage!  We'll  not 
waste  a  pound  o'  powder  in  capturing  that 
prize!  "  He  turned  suddenly  to  me — "  As  I  live 
by  bread,  'tis  that  bragging  young  dandy-prat 
— hop-o'-my-thumb — Ben  Gillam  of  Boston 
Town!" 

"Ben  Gillam!" 

I  was  thinking  of  my  assailant  in  the  woods. 
"  Ben  was  tall.  The  pirate,  who  came  carving  at 
me,  was  small." 

But  Ben  Gillam  it  was,  turned  pirate  or  pri- 
vateer— as  you  choose  to  call  it — grown  to  a 
w^ell-timbered  rapscallion  with  head  high  in  air, 
jack-boots  half-way  to  his  waist,  a  clanking 
sword  at  heel,  and  a  nose  too  red  from  rum. 

As  we  landed,  he  sent  his  men  scattering  to 
the  fort,  and  stood  twirhng  his  mustaches  till 
the  recognition  struck  him. 

"  By  Jericho — Radisson!  "  he  gasped. 

Then  he  tossed  his  chin  defiantly  in  air  Hke 
an  unbroken  colt  disposed  to  try  odds  with  a 
master. 

132 


THE   CAUSE    OF   THE    FIRING 

"  Don't  be  afraid  to  land,"  he  called  down 
out  of  sheer  impudence. 

**  Don't  be  afraid  to  have  us  land,"  Radisson 
shouted  up  to  him.    '*  We'll  not  harm  you!  " 

Ben  swore  a  big  oath,  fleered  a  laugh,  and 
kicked  the  sand  with  his  heels.  Raising  a  hand, 
he  signalled  the  watchers  on  the  ship. 

"  Sorry  to  welcome  you  in  this  warlike  fash- 
ion," said  he. 

''  Glad  to  welcome  you  to  the  domain  of  His 
Most  Christian  Majesty,  the  King  of  France," 
retorted  Radisson,  leaping  ashore. 

Ben  blinked  to  catch  the  drift  of  that. 

"  Devil  take  their  majesties!  "  he  ejaculated. 
"  He's  king  who  conquers!  " 

*'  No  need  to  talk  of  conquering  w^hen  one  is 
master  already,"  corrected  M.  de  Radisson. 

"  Shiver  my  soul,"  blurts  out  Ben,  "  I  haven't 
a  tongue  like  an  eel,  but  that's  what  I  mean; 
and  I'm  king  here,  and  welcome  to  you,  Ra- 
disson! " 

"  And  that's  what  I  mean,"  laughed  M.  Ra- 
disson, with  a  bow,  quietly  motioning  us  to  fol- 
low ashore.  "  No  need  to  conquer  where  one  is 
master,  and  welcome  to  you.  Captain  Gillam!  " 

And  they  embraced  each  other  like  spider 
and  fly,  each  wuth  a  free  hand  to  his  sword-hilt, 
and  a  questioning  look  on  the  other's  face. 

133 


HERALDS    OF    EMPIRE 

Says  M.  Radisson:  "  I've  seen  that  ship  be- 
fore! " 

Ben  laughs  awkwardly.  "  We  captured  her 
from  a  Dutchman,"  he  begins. 

''  Oh!  "  says  Sieur  Radisson.  ''  I  meant  out- 
side the  straits  after  the  storm!  " 

Gillam's  eyes  widen.  "  Were  those  your 
ships?  "  he  asks.    Then  both  men  laugh. 

"  Not  much  to  boast  in  the  way  of  a  fleet," 
taunts  Ben. 

*'  Those  are  the  two  smallest  we  have," 
quickly  explains  Radisson. 

Gillam's  face  went  blank,  and  M.  Radisson's 
eves  closed  to  the  watchful  slit  of  a  cat  mouse- 
hunting. 

"'  Come!  Come!  "  exclaims  Ben,  with  a  sud- 
den flare  of  friendliness,  ''  I  am  no  baby-eater! 
Put  a  peg  in  that!  Shiver  my  soul  if  this  is  a 
way  to  welcome  friends!  Come  aboard  all  of 
you  and  test  the  Canary  we  got  in  the  hold  of  a 
fine  Spanish  galleon  last  week !  Such  a  top-heavy 
ship,  with  sails  like  a  tinker's  tatters,  you  never 
saw!  And  her  hold  running  over  with  Canary 
and  ^Madeira  —  oh  !  Come  aboard  !  Come 
aboard! "  he  urged. 

It  was  Pierre  Radisson's  turn  to  blink. 

"  And  drink  to  the  success  of  the  beaver 
trade,"  importunes  Ben. 

134 


THE   CAUSE    OF   THE    FIRING 

'Twas  as  pretty  a  piece  of  play  as  you  could 
see:  Ben,  scheming  to  get  the  Frenchman  cap- 
tive; M.  Radisson,  with  the  lightnings  under  his 
brows  and  that  dare-devil  rashness  of  his  blood 
tempting  him  to  spy  out  the  lad's  strength. 

"  Ben  was  the  body  of  the  venture!  Where 
was  the  brain?  It  was  that  took  me  aboard  his 
ship,"  M.  Radisson  afterward  confessed  to  us. 

''  Come  !  Come  !  "  pressed  Gillam.  "  I 
know  young  Stanhope  there  " — his  mighty  air 
brought  the  laugh  to  my  face — "  young  Stan- 
hope there  has  a  taste  for  fine  Canary '^ 

"  But,  lad,"  protested  Radisson,  with  a  con- 
descension that  was  vinegar  to  Ben's  vanity, 
"  we  cannot  be  debtors  altogether.  Let  two  of 
your  men  stay  here  and  whifif  pipes  with  my  fel- 
lows, while  I  go  aboard!  " 

Ben's  teeth  ground  out  an  assent  that  sound- 
ed precious  like  an  oath;  for  he  knew  that  he 
was  being  asked  for  hostages  of  safe-conduct 
while  M.  Radisson  spied  out  the  ship.  He  sig- 
nalled, as  we  thought,  for  two  hostages  to  come 
down  from  the  fort;  but  scarce  had  he  dropped 
his  hand  when  fort  and  ship  let  out  such  a  roar 
of  cannonading  as  would  have  lifted  the  hair 
from  any  other  head  than  Pierre  Radisson's. 

Godefroy  cut  a  caper.  The  Indian's  eyes 
bulged  with  terror,  and  my  own  pulse  went  a- 

135 


HERALDS   OF    EMPIRE 

hop;  but  M.  Radisson  never  changed  counte- 
nance. 

''  Pardieu,"  says  he  softly,  with  a  pleased 
smile  as  the  last  shot  went  skipping  over  the  wa- 
ter, "  you're  devilish  fond  o'  fireworks,  to  waste 
good  powder  so  far  from  home!  '* 

Ben  mumbled  out  that  he  had  plenty  of  pow- 
der, and  that  some  fools  didn't  know  fireworks 
from  war. 

M.  Radisson  said  he  was  glad  there  was 
plenty  of  powder,  there  would  doubtless  be  use 
found  for  it,  and  he  knew  fools  oft  mistook  fire- 
works for  war. 

With  that  a  cannon-shot  sent  the  sand  spat- 
tering to  our  boots  and  filled  the  air  with  pow- 
der-dust; but  when  the  smoke  cleared,  M.  Radis- 
son had  quietly  put  himself  between  Ben  and 
the  fort. 

Drawing  out  his  sword,  the  Frenchman  ran 
his  finger  up  the  edge. 

*'  Sharp  as  the  next,"  said  he. 

Lowering  the  point,  he  scratched  a  line  on 
the  sand  between  the  mark  of  the  last  shot 
and  us. 

"How  close  can  your  gunners  hit,  Ben?'* 
asked  Radisson.  ''  Now  I'll  wager  you  a  bottle 
of  Madeira  they  can't  hit  that  line  without  hit- 
ting you! " 

136 


THE   CAUSE    OF   THE    FIRING 

Ben's  hand  went  up  quick  enough.  The 
gunners  ceased  firing  and  M.  Radisson  sheathed 
his  sword  with  a  laugh. 

''  You'll  not  take  the  odds?  Take  advice  in- 
stead! Take  a  man's  advice,  and  never  w^aste 
powder!  You'll  need  it  all  if  he's  king  who  con- 
quers! Besides,"  he  added,  turning  suddenly 
serious,  ''  if  my  forces  learn  you  are  here  I'll  not 
promise  I've  strength  to  restrain  them!  " 

"  How  many  have  you?  "  blurted  Ben. 

"  Plenty  to  spare!  Now,  if  you  are  afraid  of 
the  Hudson's  Bay  Company  ships  attacking  you, 
I'd  be  glad  to  loan  you  enough  young  fire-eaters 
to  garrison  the  fort  here!  " 

''  Thanks,"  says  Ben,  twirling  his  mustaches 
till  they  were  nigh  jerked  out,  "  but  how  long 
would  they  stay?  " 

"'  Till  you  sent  them  away,"  says  ^I.  de 
Radisson,  with  the  lights  at  play  under  his 
brows. 

"  Hang  me  if  I  know  how  long  that  would 
be,"  laughed  Gillam,  half-puzzled,  half-pleased 
with  the  Frenchman's  darting  wits. 

''  Ben,"  begins  ]M.  Radisson,  tapping  the  lace 
ruffle  of  Gillam's  sleeve,  "  you  must  not  fire 
those  guns!  " 

''  No?  "  questions  Gillam. 

"  My  officers   are   swashing  young  blades! 

^17 


HERALDS   OF   EMPIRE 

What  with  the  marines  and  the  common  soldiers 
and  my  own  guard,  'tis  all  I  can  manage  to  keep 
the  rascals  in  hand!  They  must  not  know  you 
are  here!  " 

Gillam  muttered  something  of  a  treaty  of 
truce  for  the  winter. 

M.  Radisson  shook  his  head. 

''  I  have  scarce  the  support  to  do  as  I  will," 
he  protests. 

Young  Gillam  swore  such  coolness  was 
scurvy  treatment  for  an  old  friend. 

'*  Old  friend,"  laughed  Radisson  afterward. 
*'  Did  the  cub's  hangdog  of  a  father  not  offer  a 
thousand  pounds  for  my  head  on  the  end  of  a 
pikestaff?  " 

But  with  Ben  he  played  the  game  out. 

''  The  season  is  too  far  advanced  for  you  to 
escape/'  says  he  with  soft  emphasis. 

"  'Tis  why  I  want  a  treaty,"  answers  the 
sailor. 

"  Come,  then,"  laughs  the  Frenchman,  "  now^ 
^-as  to  terms " 

"  Name  them,"  says  Gillam. 

"  If  you  don't  wish  to  be  discovered " 

''  I  don't  wish  to  be  discovered!  " 

*'  If  you  don't  wish  to  be  discovered  don't 
run  up  a  flag!  " 

^*  One,"  says  Gillam. 

138 


THE    CAUSE    OF   THE    FIRING 

"  If  you  don't  wish  to  be  discovered,  don't  let 
your  people  leave  the  island!  " 

''  They  haven't,"  says  Gillam. 

"  What?  "  asks  M.  Radisson,  glancing  sharp- 
ly at  me;  for  we  were  both  thinking  of  that  night 
attack. 

"  They  haven't  left  the  island,"  repeats  Gil- 
lam. 

"  Ten  lies  are  as  cheap  as  two,"  says  Radisson 
to  us.  Then  to  Gillam,  "  Don't  let  your  people 
leave  the  island,  or  they'll  meet  my  forces." 

''  Two,"  says  Gillam. 

"  If  you  don't  wish  the  Fur  Company  to  dis- 
cover you,  don't  fire  guns!  " 

**  Three,"  says  Gillam. 

"  That  is  to  keep  'em  from  connecting  with 
those  inlanders,"  whispered  Godefroy,  who  knew 
the  plays  of  his  master's  game  better  than  I. 
"We  can  beat  'em  single;  but  if  Ben  joins  the 
inlanders  and  the  Fur  Company  against  us — " 
Godefroy  completed  his  prophecy  with  an  omi- 
nous shake  of  the  head. 

''  My  men  shall  not  know  you  are  here,"  M. 
Radisson  was  promising. 

**  One,"  counts  Gillam. 

''  I'll  join  with  you  against  the  English 
ships!" 

Young  Gillam  laughed  derisively. 
10  139 


HERALDS    OF    EMPIRE 

*'  My  father  commands  the  Hudson's  Bay 
ship,"  says  he. 

*'  Egad,  yes!  "  retorts  M.  Radisson  noncha- 
lantly, ''  but  your  father  doesn't  command  the 
governor  of  the  Fur  Company,  who  sailed  out 
in  his  ship." 

*'  The  governor  does  not  know  that  I  am 
here,"  flouts  Ben. 

"  But  he  would  know  if  I  told  him,"  adds  M. 
de  Radisson,  "  and  if  I  told  him  the  Company's 
captain  owned  half  the  ship  poaching  on  the 
Company's  preserve,  the  Company's  captain  and 
the  captain's  son  might  go  hang  for  all  the  furs 
they'd  get!  By  the  Lord,  youngster,  I  rather 
suspect  both  the  captain  and  the  captain's  son 
would  be  whipped  and  hanged  for  the  theft !  " 

Ben  gave  a  start  and  looked  hard  at  Radis- 
son. 'Twas  the  first  time,  I  think,  the  cub  real- 
ized that  the  pawn  in  so  soft-spoken  a  game 
was  his  own  neck. 

*'  Go  on,"  he  said,  with  haste  and  fear  in  his 
look.  "  I  promised  three  terms.  You  will  keep 
your  people  from  knowing  I  am  here  and  join 
me  against  the  EngHsh — go  on!    What  next?  " 

"  I'll  defend  you  against  the  Indians,"  coolly 
capped  M.  Radisson. 

Godefroy  whispered  in  my  ear  that  he  would 
not  give  a  pin's  purchase  for  all  the  furs  the  New 

140 


THE    CAUSE    OF   THE    FIRING 

Englander  would  get;  and  Ben  Gillam  looked 
like  a  man  whose  shoe  pinches.  He  hung  his 
head  hesitating. 

"  But  if  you  run  up  a  flag,  or  fire  a  gun,  or 
let  your  people  leave  the  island,"  warned  M.  Ra- 
disson,  "  I  may  let  my  men  come,  or  tell  the  Eng- 
Hsh,  or  join  the  Indians  against  you." 

Gillam  put  out  his  hand. 

"  It's  a  treaty,"  said  he. 

There  and  then  he  would  have  been  glad  to 
see  the  last  of  us;  but  M.  Radisson  was  not  the 
man  to  miss  the  chance  of  seeing  a  rival's  ship. 

''  How  about  that  Canary  taken  from  the  for- 
eign ship?  A  galleon,  did  you  say,  tall  and  slim? 
Did  you  sink  her  or  sell  her?  Send  down  your 
men  to  my  fellows!  Let  us  go  aboard  for  the 
story." 


141 


CHAPTER    XI 

MORE    OF    M.    RADISSON's   RIVALS 

So  Ben  Gillam  must  take  M.  Radisson 
aboard  the  Susan,  or  Gargon,  as  she  was  called 
when  she  sailed  different  colours,  the  young  fel- 
low with  a  wry  face,  the  Frenchman,  all  gaiety. 
As  the  two  leaders  mounted  the  companion-lad- 
der, hostages  came  towards  the  beach  to  join  us. 
I  had  scarce  noticed  them  when  one  tugged  at 
my  sleeve,  and  I  turned  to  look  full  in  the  faith- 
ful shy  face  of  little  Jack  Battle. 

"  Jack!  "  I  shouted,  but  he  only  wrung  and 
wrung  and  wrung  at  my  hand,  emitting  little 
gurgling  laughs. 

Then  we  linked  arms  and  walked  along  the 
beach,  where  others  could  not  hear. 

"  Where  did  you  come  from?  "  I  demanded, 

"  Master  Ben  fished  me  up  on  the  Grand 
Banks.  I  was  w^ith  the  fleet.  It  was  after  he 
met  you  off  the  straits;  and  here  I  be,  Ram- 
say." 

"  After  he  met  us  off  the  straits."    I  was  try- 

142 


MORE    OF   M.    RADISSON^S    RIVALS 

ing  to  piece  some  connection  between  Gillam's 
ship  and  the  inland  assailants.  "Jack,  tell  me! 
How  many  days  have  you  been  here?  " 

"  Three,"  says  Jack.  "  SpUt  me  fore  and  aft 
if  we've  been  a  day  more!  " 

It  was  four  since  that  night  in  the  bush. 

"  You  could  not  build  a  fort  in  three 
days!" 

**  'Twas  half-built  when  we  came." 

*'  Who  did  that?  Is  Captain  Gillam  stealing 
the  Company's  furs  for  Ben?  " 

"No-o-o,"  drawled  Jack  thoughtfully,  ''it 
aren't  that.  It  are  something  else,  I  can't 
make  out.  Master  Ben  keeps  firing  and  firing 
and  firing  his  guns  expecting  some  one  to  an- 
swer." 

"  The  Indians  with  the  pelts,"  I  suggested. 

"  No-o-o,"  answered  Jack.  "  Split  me  fore 
and  aft  if  it's  Indians  he  wants!  He  could 
send  up  river  for  them.  It's  some  one  as  came 
from  his  father's  ship  outside  Boston  when  Mas- 
ter Ben  sailed  for  the  north  and  Captain  Gillam 
was  agoing  home  to  England  with  Mistress 
Hortense  in  his  ship.  When  no  answer  comes  to 
our  firing,  Master  Ben  takes  to  climbing  the 
masthead  and  yelling  like  a  fog-horn  and  drop- 
ping curses  like  hail  and  swearing  he'll  shoot 
him  as  fails  to  keep  appointment  as  he'd  shoot  a 

143 


HERALDS    OF    EMPIRE 

dog,  if  he  has  to  track  him  inland  a  thousand 
leagues.    Split  me  fore  and  aft  if  he  don't!  " 

"  Who  shoot  what?  "  I  demanded,  trying  to 
extract  some  meaning  from  the  jumbled  narra- 
tive. 

"  That's  what  I  don't  know,"  says  Jack. 

I  fetched  a  sigh  of  despair. 

"  What's  the  matter  with  your  hand?  Does 
it  hurt?  "  he  asked  quickly. 

Poor  Jack!  I  looked  into  his  faithful  blue 
eyes.  There  was  not  a  shadow  of  deception 
there — only  the  affection  that  gives  without 
wishing  to  comprehend.  Should  I  tell  him  of  the 
adventure?  But  a  loud  halloo  from  Godefroy 
notified  me  that  M.  de  Radisson  was  on  the 
beach  ready  to  launch. 

"  Almost  waste  work  to  go  on  fortifying,'* 
he  was  warning  Ben. 

"  You  forget  the  danger  from  your  own 
crews,"  pleaded  young  Gillam. 

"Pardieu!  We  can  easily  arrange  that.  I 
promise  you  never  to  approach  with  more  than 
thirty  of  a  guard."  (We  were  twenty-nine  all 
told.)  "  But  remember,  don't  hoist  a  flag,  don't 
fire,  don't  let  your  people  leave  the  island." 

Then  we  launched  out,  and  I  heard  Ben 
muttering  under  his  breath  that  he  was  cursed 
if  he  had  ever  known  such  impudence.  In  mid- 
144 


MORE    OF    M.    RADISSON'S    RIVALS 

current  our  leader  laid  his  pole  crosswise  and 
laughed  long. 

''  'Tis  a  pretty  prize.  'Twill  fetch  the  price 
of  a  thousand  beaver-skins!  Captain  Gillam 
reckoned  short  when  he  furnished  young  Ben  to 
defraud  the  Company.  He  w'ould  give  a  thou- 
sand pounds  for  my  head — would  he?  Pardieu! 
He  shall  give  five  thousand  pounds  and  leave  my 
head  where  it  is!  And  egad,  if  he  behaves  too 
badly,  he  shall  pay  hush-money,  or  the  governor 
shall  know!  When  we've  taken  him,  lads,  who 
— think  you — dare  complain?  "  And  he  laughed 
again;  but  at  a  bend  in  the  river  he  turned  sud- 
denly with  his  eyes  snapping — "  Who  a'  deuce 
could  that  have  been  playing  pranks  in  the 
woods  the  other  night?  Mark  my  words.  Stan- 
hope, whoever  'twas  will  prove  the  brains  and 
the  mainspring  and  the  driving-wheel  and  the 
rudder  of  this  cub's  venture!  " 

And  he  began  to  dip  in  quick  vigorous 
strokes  like  the  thoughts  ferreting  through  his 
brain.  We  had  made  bare  a  dozen  miles  when 
paddles  clapped  athwart  as  if  petrified. 

Up  the  wide  river,  like  a  great  white  bird, 
came  a  stately  ship.  It  was  the  Prince  Rupert 
of  the  Hudson's  Bay  Company,  which  claimed 
sole  right  to  trade  in  all  that  north  land. 

Young  Gillam,  with  guns  mounted,  to  the 

145 


HERALDS   OF    EMPIRE 

rear!  A  hostile  ship,  with  fighting  men  and  ord- 
nance, to  the  fore!  An  unknown  enemy  inland! 
And  for  our  leader  a  man  on  whose  head  Eng- 
land and  New  England  set  a  price! 

Do  you  wonder  that  our  hearts  stopped  al- 
most as  suddenly  as  the  paddles?  But  it  was 
not  fear  that  gave  pause  to  M.  Radisson. 

"  If  those  ships  get  together,  the  game  is 
lost,"  says  he  hurriedly.  '*  May  the  devil  fly 
away  with  us,  if  we  haven't  wit  to  stop  that 
ship!" 

Act  jumping  with  thought,  he  shot  the  canoe 
under  cover  of  the  wooded  shore.  In  a  twink- 
ling we  had  such  a  fire  roaring  as  the  natives 
use  for  signals.  Between  the  fire  and  the  river 
he  stationed  our  Indian,  as  hunters  place  a  decoy. 

The  ruse  succeeded. 

Lowering  sail,  the  Prince  Rupert  cast  anchor 
opposite  our  fire;  but  darkness  had  gathered, 
and  the  English  sent  no  boat  ashore  till  morn- 
ing. 

Posting  us  against  the  woods,  M.  Radisson 
went  forward  alone  to  meet  the  company  of  sol- 
diers rowing  ashore.  The  man  standing  amid- 
ships, Godefroy  said,  was  Captain  Gillam,  Ben's 
father;  but  the  gentleman  with  gold-laced  doub- 
let and  ruffled  sleeves  sitting  back  in  the  sheets 
was  Governor  Brigdar,   of  the  Hudson's   Bay 

146 


MORE   OF    M.    RADISSON'S    RIVALS 

Fur  Company,  a  courtier  of  Prince  Rupert's 
choice. 

The  clumsy  boat  grounded  in  the  shallows, 
and  a  soldier  got  both  feet  in  the  water  to  wade. 
Instantly  M.  Radisson  roared  out  such  a  sten- 
torian ''  Halt!  "  you  would  have  thought  that  he 
had  an  army  at  his  back.  Indeed,  that  is  what 
the  party  thought,  for  the  fellow  got  his  feet 
back  in  the  boat  monstrous  quick.  And  there 
was  a  vast  bandying  of  words,  each  asking 
other  who  they  were,  and  bidding  each  other 
in  no  very  polite  terms  to  mind  their  own 
affairs. 

Of  a  sudden  M.  Radisson  wheeled  to  us 
standing  guard. 

'^  Officers,"  he  shouted,  "first  brigade!— 
forward!  " 

From  the  manner  of  him  we  might  have  had 
an  army  under  cover  behind  that  bush. 

All  at  once  Governor  Brigdar's  lace  handker- 
chief was  aflutter  at  the  end  of  a  sword,  and  the 
representative  of  King  Charles  begged  leave  to 
land  and  salute  the  representative  of  His  Most 
Christian  Majesty,  the  King  of  France. 

And  land  they  did,  pompously  peaceful, 
though  their  swords  clanked  so  oft  every  man 
must  have  had  a  hand  ready  at  his  baldrick, 
Pierre  Radisson  receiving  them  with  the  lofty 

147 


HERALDS   OF    EMPIRE 

air  of  a  gracious  monarch,  the  others  bowing 
and  unhatting  and  bending  and  crooking  their 
spines  supple  as  courtiers  with  a  king. 

Presently  came  the  soldiers  back  to  us  as 
hostages,  while  Radisson  stepped  into  the  boat 
to  go  aboard  the  Prince  Rupert  with  the  captain 
and  governor.  Godefroy  called  out  against 
such  rashness,  and  Pierre  Radisson  shouted  back 
that  threat  about  the  nippers  pulling  the  end  off 
the  fellow's  tongue. 

Serving  under  the  French  flag,  I  was  not 
supposed  to  know  English;  but  when  one  soldier 
said  he  had  seen  "  Mr.  What-d'y-call-'im  before," 
pointing  at  me,  I  recognised  the  mate  from 
whom  I  had  hired  passage  to  England  for  M. 
Picot  on  Captain  Gillam's  ship. 

"  Like  enough,"  says  the  other,  *'  'tis  a  land 
where  no  man  brings  his  back  history." 

*'  See  here,  fellow,"  said  I,  whipping  out  a 
crown,  "  here's  for  you  to  tell  me  of  the  New 
Amsterdam  gentleman  who  sailed  from  Boston 
last  spring!  " 

*'  No  New  Amsterdam  gentleman  sailed  from 
Boston,"  answered  both  in  one  breath. 

"  I  am  not  paying  for  lies,"  and  I  returned 
the  crown  to  my  pocket. 

Then  Radisson  came  back,  urging  Captain 
Gillam  against  proceeding  up  the  river. 

148 


MORE   OF    M.    RADISSON^S    RIVALS 

"The  Prince  Rupert  might  ground  on  the 
shallows,"  he  warned. 

"  That  will  keep  them  apart  till  we  trap  one 
or  both,"  he  told  us,  as  we  set  off  in  our  canoe. 

But  we  had  not  gone  out  of  range  before  we 
were  ordered  ashore.  Picking  our  way  back 
overland,  we  spied  through  the  bush  for  two 
days,  till  we  saw  that  Governor  Brigdar  was 
taking  Radisson's  advice,  going  no  farther  up- 
stream, but  erecting  a  fort  on  the  shore  where 
he  had  anchored. 

*'  And  now,"  said  Radisson,  "  we  must  act." 

While  we  were  spying  through  the  woods, 
watching  the  English  build  their  fort,  I  thought 
that  I  saw  a  figure  flitting  through  the  bush  to 
the  rear.  I  dared  not  fire.  One  shot  would  have 
betrayed  us  to  the  English.  But  I  pointed  my 
gun.  The  thing  came  gHding  noiselessly  nearer. 
I  clicked  the  gun-butt  without  firing.  The  thing 
paused.  Then  I  called  M.  Radisson,  who  said  it 
was  Le  Borgne,  the  w'all-eyed  Indian.  Godefroy 
vowed  'twas  a  spy  from  Ben  Gillam's  fort.  The 
Indian  mumbled  some  superstition  of  a  manitou. 
To  me  it  seemed  like  a  caribou;  for  it  faded  to 
nothing  the  way  those  fleet  creatures  have  of 
skimming  into  distance. 


149 


CHAPTER    XII 

M.    RADISSON   BEGINS   THE    GAME 

M.  Radisson  had  reckoned  well.  His  warn- 
ing to  prepare  for  instant  siege  set  all  the  young 
fire-eaters  of  our  Habitation  working  like  bea- 
vers to  complete  the  French  fort.  The  marquis 
took  a  hand  at  squaring  timbers  shoulder  to 
shoulder  with  Allemand,  the  pilot;  and  La  Ches- 
naye,  the  merchant  prince,  forgot  to  strut  while 
digging  up  earthworks  for  a  parapet.  The 
leaven  of  the  New  World  was  working.  Hon- 
our was  for  him  only  whose  brawn  won  the 
place;  and  our  young  fellows  of  the  birth  and 
the  pride  were  keenest  to  gird  for  the  task. 

On  our  return  from  the  upper  river  to  the 
fort,  the  palisaded  walls  were  finished,  guns  were 
mounted  on  all  bastions,  the  two  ships  beached 
under  shelter  of  cannon,  sentinels  on  parade  at 
the  main  gate,  and  a  long  barracks  built  mid- 
way across  the  courtyard. 

Here  we  passed  many  a  merry  hour  of  a  long 
winter  night,  the  green  timbers  cracking  like 

150 


M.   RADISSON    BEGINS   THE   GAME 

pistol-shots  to  the  tightening  frost-grip,  and  the 
hearth  logs  at  each  end  of  the  long,  low-raftered 
hall  sending  up  a  roar  that  set  the  red  shadows 
dancing  among  ceiling  joists.  After  ward-room 
mess,  with  fare  that  kings  might  have  envied — 
teal  and  partridge  and  venison  and  a  steak  of 
beaver's  tail,  and  moose  nose  as  an  entree,  with 
a  tidbit  of  buffalo  hump  that  melted  in  your 
mouth  like  flakes — the  commonalty,  as  La 
Chesnaye  designated  those  who  sat  below  the 
salt,  would  draw  off  to  the  far  hearth.  Here 
the  sailors  gathered  close,  spinning  yams,  crack- 
ing jokes,  popping  corn,  and  toasting  wits, 
a-merrier  far  that  your  kitchen  cuddies  of  older 
lands.  At  the  other  hearth  sat  M.  de  Radisson, 
feet  spread  to  the  flre,  a  long  pipe  between  his 
lips,  and  an  audience  of  young  blades  eager  for 
his  tales. 

"  D'ye  mind  how  we  got  away  from  the  Iro- 
quois, Chouart? "  Radisson  asks  Groseillers, 
who  sits  in  a  chair  rough-hewn  from  a  stump 
on  the  other  side  of  the  fire. 

Chouart  Groseillers  smiles  quietly  and 
strokes  his  black  beard.  Jean  stretches  across 
a  bear-skin  on  the  floor  and  shouts  out,  "  Tell 
us!    Tell  us!" 

''  We  had  been  captives  six  months.  The 
Iroquois  were  beginning  to  let  us  wander  about 


HERALDS   OF   EMPIRE 

alone.  Chouart  there  had  sewed  his  thumb  up, 
where  an  old  squaw  had  hacked  at  it  with  a  dull 
shell.  The  padre's  nails,  which  the  Indians  tore 
off  in  torture,  had  grown  well  enough  for  him 
to  handle  a  gun.  One  day  we  were  allowed  out 
to  hunt.  Chouart  brought  down  three  deer,  the 
padre  two  moose,  and  I  a  couple  of  bear.  That 
night  the  warriors  came  back  from  a  raid  on 
Orange  with  not  a  thing  to  eat  but  one  miser- 
able, little,  thin,  squealing  pig.  Pardieu!  men, 
'twas  our  chance;  and  the  chance  is  always  hid- 
ing round  a  corner  for  the  man  who  goes 
ahead." 

Radisson  paused  to  whiff  his  pipe,  all  the 
lights  in  his  eyes  laughing  and  his  mouth  ex- 
pressionless as  steel. 

"  'Tis  an  insult  among  Iroquois  to  leave  food 
at  a  feast.  There  were  we  with  food  enough  to 
stuff  the  tribe  torpid  as  winter  toads.  The  padre 
was  sent  round  to  the  lodges  with  a  tom-tom 
to  beat  every  soul  to  the  feast.  Chouart  and  a 
Dutch  prisoner  and  I  cooked  like  kings'  scul- 
lions for  four  mortal  hours! " 

"  We  wanted  to  delay  the  feast  till  mid- 
night," explains  Groseillers. 

*'  And  at  midnight  in  trooped  every  man, 
woman,  and  brat  of  the  encampment.  The 
padre  takes  a  tom-tom  and  stands  at  one  end 

152 


M.   RADISSON    BEGINS   THE   GAME 

of  the  lodge  beating  a  very  knave  of  a  rub-a-dub 
and  shouting  at  the  top  of  his  voice:  '  Eat, 
brothers,  eat!  Bulge  the  eye,  swell  the  coat, 
loose  the  belt!  Eat,  brothers,  eat!'  Chouart 
stands  at  the  boiler  ladling  out  joints  faster  than 
an  army  could  gobble.  Within  an  hour  every 
brat  lay  stretched  and  the  women  were  snoring 
asleep  where  they  crouched.  From  the  war- 
riors, here  a  grunt,  there  a  groan!  But  Chouart 
keeps  ladling  out  the  meat.  Then  the  Dutch- 
man grabs  up  a  drum  at  the  other  end  of  the 
lodge,  and  begins  to  beat  and  yell:  '  Stuff,  brud- 
ders,  stuff!  Vat  de  gut  zperets  zend,  gast  not 
out!  Eat,  braves,  eat! '  And  the  padre  cuts  the 
capers  of  a  fiend  on  coals.  Still  the  w^arriors  eat! 
Still  the  drums  beat!  Still  the  meat  is  heaped! 
Then,  one  brave  bowls  over  asleep  with  his  head 
on  his  knees!  Another  warrior  tumbles  back! 
Guards  sit  bolt  upright  sound  asleep  as  a 
stone!" 

''What  did  you  put  in  the  meat,  Pierre?" 
asked  Groseillers  absently. 

Radisson  laughed. 

''  Do  you  mind,  Chouart,"  he  asked,  "  how 
the  padre  wanted  to  put  poison  in  the  meat, 
and  the  Dutchman  wouldn't  let  him?  Then  the 
Dutchman  w^anted  to  murder  them  all  in  their 
sleep,  and  the  padre  w^ouldn't  let  him?  " 

153 


HERALDS    OF   EMPIRE 

Both  men  laughed. 

''And  the  end?"  asked  Jean. 

"  We  tied  the  squealing  pig  at  the  door  for 
sentinel,  broke  ice  with  our  muskets,  launched 
the  canoe,  and  never  stopped  paddUng  till  we 
reached  Three  Rivers."  * 

At  that  comes  a  loud  sally  of  laughter  from 

the  sailors  at  the  far  end  of  the  hall.     Godefroy, 

the  English  trader,  is  singing  a  rhyme  of  All 

Souls'   Day,  and  Allemand,  the   French  pilot, 

protests. 

"  Soul !     Soul !     For  a  soul-cake  ! 
One  for  Peter,  two  for  Paul, 
Three  for ." 

But  La  Chesnaye  shouts  out  for  the  knaves 
to  hold  quiet.  Godefroy  bobs  his  tipstaff,  and 
bawls  on: 

•'  Soul !     Soul !     For  an  apple  or  two  ! 
If  you've  got  no  apples,  nuts  will  do  ! 
Out  with  your  raisins,  down  with  your  gin  ! 
Give  me  plenty  and  I'll  begin." 

M.  Radisson  looks  dow^n  the  hall  and  laughs. 
"  By  the  saints,"  says  he  softly,  "  a  man  loses 
the  Christian  calendar  in  this  land!  'Tis  All 
Souls'  Night!  Give  the  men  a  treat,  La  Ches- 
naye." 

*  See  Radisson's  own  account. 


M.  RADISSON    BEGINS   THE  GAME 

But  La  Chesnaye,  being  governor,  must 
needs  show  his  authority,  and  vows  to  flog  the 
knave  for  impudence.  Turning  over  benches 
in  his  haste,  the  merchant  falls  on  Godefroy 
with  such  largesse  of  cufts  that  the  fellow  is 
glad  to  keep  peace. 

The  door  blows  open,  and  with  a  gust  of 
wind  a  silent  figure  blows  in.  'Tis  Le  Borgne, 
the  one-eyed,  who  has  taken  to  joining  our  men 
of  a  merry  night,  which  ]\I.  de  Radisson  encour- 
ages; for  he  would  have  all  the  Indians  come 
freely. 

"  Ha!  "  says  Radisson,  "  I  thought  'twas  the 
men  I  sent  to  spy  if  the  marsh  were  safe  cross- 
ing. Give  Le  Borgne  tobacco,  La  Chesnaye. 
If  once  the  fellow  gets  drunk,"  he  adds  to  me 
in  an  undertone,  "  that  silent  tongue  of  his  may 
wag  on  the  interlopers.  We  must  be  stirring, 
stirring,  Ramsay!  Ten  days  past!  Egad,  a  man 
might  as  well  be  a  fish- worm  burrowing  under- 
ground as  such  a  snail!  We  must  stir — stir! 
See  here  " — drawing  me  to  the  table  apart  from 
the  others — ''  here  we  are  on  the  lower  river," 
and  he  marked  the  letter  X  on  a  line  indicating 
the  flow  of  our  river  to  the  bay.  "'  Here  is  the 
upper  river,"  and  he  drew  another  river  meeting 
ours  at  a  sharp  angle.  "'  Here  is  Governor  Brig- 
dar  of  the  Hudson's  Bay  Company,"  marking 
II  155 


HERALDS   OF   EMPIRE 

another  X  on  the  upper  river.  "  Here  is  Ben 
Gillam!  We  are  half-way  between  them  on  the 
south.  I  sent  two  men  to  see  if  the  marsh  be- 
tween the  rivers  is  fit  crossing." 


"  Fit  crossing?  " 

"  When  'tis  safe,  we  might  plan  a  surprise. 
The  only  doubt  is  how  many  of  those  pirates  are 
there  w-ho  attacked  you  in  the  woods?  " 

And  he  sat  back  whiffing  his  pipe  and  gaz- 
ing in  space.  By  this,  La  Chesnaye  had  distrib- 
uted so  generous  a  treat  that  half  the  sailors 
were  roaring  out  hilarious  mirth.  Godefroy 
astride  a  bench  played  big  drum  on  the  wrong- 
end-up  of  the  cook's  dish-pan.  Allemand  at- 
tempted to  fiddle  a  poker  across  the  tongs. 
Voyageurs  tried  to  shoot  the  big  canoe  over 
a  waterfall;  for  w^hen  Jean  tilted  one  end  of  the 

156 


M.   RADISSON    BEGINS   THE  GAME 

long  bench,  they  landed  as  cleanly  on  the  floor 
as  if  their  craft  had  plunged.  But  the  copper- 
faced  Le  Borgne  remained  taciturn  and  tongue- 
tied. 

"  Be  curse  to  that  wall-eyed  knave,"  mut- 
tered Radisson.  "  He's  too  deep  a  man  to  let 
go!    We  must  capture  him  or  win  him!  " 

"  Perhaps  when  he  becomes  more  friendly 
we  may  track  him  back  to  the  inlanders,"  I  sug- 
gested. 

M.  de  Radisson  closed  one  eye  and  looked 
at  me  attentively. 

"  La  Chesnaye,"  he  called,  ''  treat  that  fel- 
low like  a  king!  " 

And  the  rafters  rang  so  loud  with  the  merri- 
ment that  we  none  of  us  noticed  the  door  flung 
open,  nor  saw  tw^o  figures  stamping  off  the  snow 
till  they  had  thrown  a  third  man  bound  at  M.  de 
Radisson's  feet.  The  messengers  sent  to  spy 
out  the  marsh  had  returned  with  a  half-frozen 
prisoner. 

"  We  found  him  where  the  ice  is  soft.  He 
was  half  dead,"  explained  one  scout. 

Silence  fell.  Through  the  half-dark  the  In- 
dian glided  towards  the  door.  The  unconscious 
prisoner  lay  face  down. 

"  Turn  him  over,"  ordered  Radisson. 

As  our  men  rolled  him  roughly  over,  the 

15; 


HERALDS    OF    EMPIRE 

captive  uttered  a  heavy  groan.  His  arms  fell 
away  from  his  face  revealing  little  Jack  Battle, 
the  castaway,  in  a  haven  as  strange  as  of  old. 

"  Search  him  before  he  wakes,"  commanded 
Radisson  roughly. 

''  Let  me,"  I  asked. 

In  the  pouches  of  the  caribou  coat  was  only 
pemmican;  but  my  hand  crushed  against  a  soft- 
ness in  the  inner  waistcoat.  I  pulled  it  out — 
a  little,  old  glove,  the  colour  Hortense  had 
dangled  the  day  that  Ben  Gillam  fell  into  the 
sea. 

''  Pish!  "  says  Radisson.    "  Anything  else?  " 

There  crumpled  out  a  yellow  paper.  M.  Ra- 
disson snatched  it  up. 

"  Pish!  "  says  he,  '*  nothing— put  it  back!  " 

It  was  a  page  of  my  copy-book,  when  I  used 
to  take  lessons  with  Rebecca.  Replacing  paper 
and  glove,  I  closed  up  the  sailor  lad's  coat. 

''  Search  his  cap  and  moccasins!  " 

I  was  mighty  thankful,  as  you  may  guess, 
that  other  hands  than  mine  found  the  tell-tale 
missive — a  badly  writ  letter  addressed  to  "  Cap- 
tain Zechariah  Gillium." 

Tearing  it  open,  ^M.  Radisson  read  with 
stormy  lights  agleam  in  his  eyes. 

''  Sir,  this  sailor  lad  is  an  old  comrade,"  I 
pleaded. 

158 


M.   RADISSON    BEGINS   THE   GAME 

"  Then'a  God's  name  take  care  of  him,"  he 
flashed  out. 

But  long  before  I  had  Jack  Battle  thawed 
back  to  consciousness  in  my  own  quarters,  Jean 
came  running  with  orders  for  me  to  report  to 
M.  Radisson. 

"  I'll  take  care  of  the  sailor  for  you,"  prof- 
fered Jean. 

And  I  hastened  to  the  main  hall. 

"  Get  ready,"  ordered  Radisson.  ''  We  must 
stir!  That  young  hop-o'-my-thumb  suspects 
his  father  has  arrived.  He  has  sent  this  fellow 
with  word  of  me.  Things  will  be  doing.  We 
must  stir — we  must  stir.  Read  those  for  new^s," 
and  he  handed  me  the  letter. 

The  letter  was  addressed  to  Ben's  father,  of 
the  Hudson's  Bay  ship.  Prince  Rupert.  In  wri- 
ting which  was  scarcely  legible,  it  ran: 

I  take  Up  my  Pen  to  lett  You  knowe  that  cutt-throte 
french  viper  Who  deserted  You  at  ye  fort  of  ye  bay  lo  Years 
ago  hath  come  here  for  France  Threatening  us. 

he  Must  Be  Stopped.     Will  i  Do  It  ? 

have  Bin  Here  Come  Six  weekes  All  Souls'  day  and  Not 
Heard  a  Word  of  Him  that  went  inland  to  Catch  ye  Furs 

from  ye  Savages  before  they  Mett  Governor  B .     If  He 

Proves  False 

There  the  crushed  missive  was  torn,  but  the 
purport  was  plain.     Ben  Gillam  and  his  father 

159 


HERALDS   OF   EMPIRE 

were  in  collusion  with  the  inland  pirates  to  get 
peltries  from  the  Indians  before  Governor  Brig- 
dar  came;  and  the  inlanders,  whoever  they 
were,  had  concealed  both  themselves  and  the 
furs.    I  handed  the  paper  back  to  M.  Radisson. 

"  We  must  stir,  lad — we  must  stir,"  he  re- 
peated. 

''  But  the  marsh  is  soft  yet.  It  is  unsafe  to 
cross." 

"  The  river  is  not  frozen  in  mid-current," 
retorted  M.  Radisson  impatiently.  ''  Get  ready! 
I  am  taking  different  men  to  impress  the  young 
spark  with  our  numbers — you  and  La  Chesnaye 
and  the  marquis  and  Allemand.  But  where  a' 
devil  is  that  Indian?  " 

Le  Borgne  had  slipped  away. 

*'  Is  he  a  spy?  "  I  asked. 

"  Get  ready!  Why  do  you  ask  questions? 
The  thing  is— to  do! — do!! — do—!!!" 

But  Allemand,  who  had  been  hauling  out 
the  big  canoe,  came  up  sullenly. 

"  Sir,"  he  complained,  ''  the  river's  running 
ice  the  size  of  a  raft,  and  the  wind's  a-blowing  a 
gale." 

"  Man,"  retorted  M.  de  Radisson  with  the 
quiet  precision  of  steel,  ''  if  the  river  were  run- 
ning live  fire  and  the  gale  blew  from  the  inferno, 
I — would — go!    Stay  home  and  go  to  bed,  Al- 

i6o 


M.   RADISSON    BEGINS   THE  GAME 

lemand."     And  he  chose  one  of  the  common 
sailors  instead. 

And  when  we  walked  out  to  the  thick  edge 
of  the  shore-ice  and  launched  the  canoe  among 
a  whirling  drift  of  ice-pans,  we  had  small  hope 
of  ever  seeing  Fort  Bourbon  again.     The  ice 
had  not  the  thickness  of  the  spring  jam,  but  it 
was  sharp  enough  to  cut  our  canoe,  and  we 
poled   our  way   far   oftener  than   we   paddled. 
Where  the  currents  of  the  two  rivers  joined,  the 
wdnd  had  whipped  the  waters  to  a  maelstrom. 
The  night  was  moonless.     It  was  well  we  did 
not  see  the  white  turmoil,  else  M.  Radisson  had 
had  a  mutiny  on  his  hands.     When  the  canoe 
leaped  to  the  throb  of  the  sucking  currents  like 
a  cataract  to  the  plunge.  La  Chesnaye  clapped 
his  pole  athwart  and  called  out  a  curse  on  such 
rashness.     M.  Radisson  did  not  hear  or  did  not 
heed.      An   ice-pan   pitched   against    La    Ches- 
naye's    place,    and    the    merchant    must    needs 
thrust  out  to  save  himself. 

The  only  light  was  the  white  glare  of  ice. 
The  only  guide  across  that  heaving  traverse, 
the  unerring  instinct  of  that  tall  figure  at  the 
bow,  now  plunging  forward,  now  bracing  back, 
now  shouting  out  a  ''Steady!"  that  the  wind 
carried  to  our  ears,  thrusting  his  pole  to  right, 
to  left  in  lightning  strokes,  till  the  canoe  sud- 

i6i 


HERALDS   OF    EMPIRE 

denly  darted  up  the  roaring  current  of  the  north 
river. 

Here  we  could  no  longer  stem  both  wind 
and  tide.  M.  Radisson  ordered  us  ashore  for 
rest.  Fourteen  days  were  we  paddling,  portag- 
ing, struggling  up  the  north  river  before  we 
came  in  range  of  the  Hudson's  Bay  fort  built  by 
Governor  Brigdar. 

Our  proximity  was  heralded  by  a  low  laugh 
from  ]M.  de  Radisson.  ''  Look,"  said  he, 
''  their  ship  aground  in  mud  a  mile  from  the 
fort.  In  case  of  attack,  their  forces  will  be  di- 
vided.    It  is  well,"  said  M.  Radisson. 

The  Prince  Rupert  lay  high  on  the  shallows, 
fast  bound  in  the  freezing  sands.  Hiding  our 
canoe  in  the  woods,  we  came  within  hail  and 
called.     There  was  no  answer. 

"  Drunk  or  scurvy,"  commented  M.  Radis- 
son. ''  An  faith,  Ramsay,  'twould  be  an  easy 
capture  if  we  had  big  enough  fort  to  hold  them 
all!" 

Shaping  his  hands  to  a  trumpet,  he  shouted, 
*'  How  are  you,  there?  " 

As  we  were  turning  away  a  fellow  came 
scrambling  up  the  fo'castle  and  called  back:  "'  A 
little  better,  but  all  asleep." 

"  A  good  time  for  us  to  examine  the  fort," 
said  M.  de  Radisson. 

162 


M.   RADISSON    BEGINS   THE  GAME 

Aloud,  he  answered  that  he  would  not  dis- 
turb the  crew,  and  he  wheeled  us  off  through 
the  woods. 

''See!"  he  observed,  as  we  emerged  in  full 
view  of  the  stockaded  fur  post,  '*  palisades 
nailed  on  from  the  inside — easily  pushed  loose 
from  the  outside.  Pish! — low  enough  for  a  dog 
to  jump." 

Posting  us  in  ambush,  he  advanced  to  the 
main  edifice  behind  the  wide-open  gate.  I  saw 
him  shaking  hands  with  the  Governor  of  the 
Hudson's  Bay  Company,  who  seemed  on  the 
point  of  sallying  out  to  hunt. 

Then  he  signalled  for  us  to  come.  I  had  al- 
most concluded  he  meant  to  capture  Governor 
Brigdar  on  the  spot;  but  Pierre  Radisson  ever 
took  friends  and  foes  unawares. 

"  Your  Excellency,"  says  he,  with  the  bow 
of  a  courtier,  "  this  is  Captain  Gingras  of  our 
new  ship." 

Before  I  had  gathered  my  wits,  Governor 
Brigdar  was  shaking  hands. 

"  And  this,"  continued  Radisson,  motioning 
forward  the  common  sailor  too  quick  for  sur- 
prise to  betray  us,  ''  this,  Your  Excellency,  is 
Colonel  Bienville  of  our  marines." 

Colonel  Bienville,  being  but  a  lubberly  fel- 
low, nigh  choked  with  amazement  at  the  Eng- 

163 


HERALDS    OF    EMPIRE 

lish  governor's  warmth;  but  before  we  knew  our 
leader's  drift,  the  marquis  and  La  Chesnaye  were 
each  in  turn  presented  as  commanders  of  our 
different  land  forces. 

"  'Tis  the  misfortune  of  my  staff  not  to  speak 
English,"  explains  Pierre  Radisson  suavely  with 
another  bow,  which  effectually  shut  any  of  our 
mouths  that  might  have  betrayed  him. 

"  Doubtless  your  officers  know  Canary  bet- 
ter than  English,"  returns  Governor  Brigdar; 
and  he  would  have  us  all  in  to  drink  healths. 

"  Keep  your  foot  in  the  open  door,"  Pierre 
Radisson  whispered  as  we  passed  into  the 
house. 

Then  we  drank  the  health  of  the  King  of 
England,  firing  our  muskets  into  the  roof;  and 
drank  to  His  Most  Christian  Majesty  of  France 
with  another  volley;  and  drank  to  the  confusion 
of  our  common  enemies,  with  a  clanking  of  gun- 
butts  that  might  have  alarmed  the  dead.  Upon 
which  Pierre  Radisson  protested  that  he  would 
not  keep  Governor  Brigdar  from  the  hunt;  and 
we  took  our  departure. 

"  And  now,"  said  he,  hastening  through  the 
bush,  ''  as  no  one  took  fright  at  all  that  firing, 
what's  to  hinder  examining  the  ship?  " 

"  Pardieu,  Ramsay,"  he  remarked,  placing 
us  in  ambush  again,  "  an  we  had  a  big  enough 

164 


M.   RADISSON    BEGINS   THE  GAME 

fort,  with  food  to  keep  them  aUve,  we  might 
have  bagged  them  all." 

From  which  I  hold  that  M.  Radisson  was 
not  so  black  a  man  as  he  has  been  painted;  for 
he  could  have  captured  the  English  as  they  lay 
weak  of  the  scurvy  and  done  to  them,  for  the 
saving  of  fort  rations,  what  rivals  did  to  all 
foes — shot  them  in  a  land  which  tells  no  secrets. 

From  our  place  on  the  shore  we  saw  him 
scramble  to  the  deck.  A  man  in  red  nightcap 
rushed  forward  with  an  oath. 

"  And  what  might  you  want,  stealing  up  like 
a  thief  in  the  night?  "  roared  the  man. 

"  To  offer  my  services.  Captain  Gillam,"  re- 
torted Radisson  with  a  hand  to  his  sword-hilt 
and  both  feet  planted  firm  on  the  deck. 

"  Services?  "  bawled  Gillam. 

"  Services  for  your  crew,  captain,"  inter- 
rupted Radisson  softly. 

"Hm!"  retorted  Captain  Gillam,  pulling 
fiercely  at  his  grizzled  beard.  ''  Then  you  might 
send  a  dozen  brace  o'  partridges,  some  oil,  and 
candles." 

With  that  they  fell  to  talking  in  lower  tones; 
and  M.  Radisson  came  away  with  quiet,  un- 
spoken mirth  in  his  eyes,  leaving  Captain  Gil- 
lam in  better  mood. 

"  Curse  me  if  he  doesn't  make  those  par- 

i6s 


HERALDS   OF   EMPIRE 

tridges  an  excuse  to  go  back  soon/'  exclaimed 
La  Chesnaye.  ''  The  ship  would  be  of  some 
value;  but  why  take  the  men  prisoners?  Much 
better  shoot  them  down  as  they  would  us,  an 
they  had  the  chance!  " 

"La  Chesnaye!"  uttered  a  sharp  voice. 
Radisson  had  heard.  *'  There  are  two  things  I 
don't  excuse  a  fool  for — not  minding  his  own 
business  and  not  holding  his  tongue." 

And  though  La  Chesnaye's  money  paid  for 
the  enterprise,  he  held  his  tongue  mighty  still. 
Indeed,  I  think  if  any  tongue  had  wagged  twice 
in  Radisson's  hearing  he  would  have  torn  the 
ofTending  member  out.  Doing  as  we  were  bid 
without  question,  we  all  filed  down  to  the  canoe. 
Less  ice  cumbered  the  upper  current,  and  by 
the  next  day  we  were  opposite  Ben  Gillam's  New 
England  fort. 

"  La  Chesnaye  and  Foret  will  shoot  par- 
tridges," commanded  M.  de  Radisson.  Leav- 
ing them  on  the  far  side  of  the  river,  he  bade  the 
sailor  and  me  paddle  him  across  to  young  Gil- 
lam's island. 

What  was  our  surprise  to  see  every  bastion 
mounted  with  heavy  guns  and  the  walls  full 
manned.  We  took  the  precaution  of  landing 
under  shelter  of  the  ship  and  fired  a  musket  to 
call  out  sentinels.     Down  ran  Ben  Gillam  and  a 

i66 


M.   RADISSON    BEGINS   THE  GAME 

second  officer,  armed  cap-a-pie,  with  swagger- 
ing insolence  that  they  took  no  pains  to  con- 
ceal. 

''  Congratulate  you  on  coming  in  the  nick 

of  time,"  cried  Ben. 

''  Now  what  in  the  Old  Nick  does  he  mean 
by  that?  "  said  Radisson.  "  Does  the  cub  think 
to  cower  me  with  his  threats?  " 

''  I  trust  your  welcome  includes  my  four  offi- 
cers," he  responded.  "  Two  are  with  me  and 
two  have  gone  for  partridges." 

Ben  bellowed  a  jeering  laugh,  and  his  sec- 
ond man  took  the  cue. 

"  Your  four  officers  may  be  forty  devils," 
yelled  the  lieutenant;  ''we've  finished  our  fort. 
Come  in.  Monsieur  Radisson!  Two  can  play  at 
the  game  of  big  talk!  You're  welcome  in  if  you 
leave  your  forty  officers  out!  " 

For  the  space  of  a  second  M.  Radisson's  eyes 
swept  the  cannon  pointing  from  the  bastion 
embrasures.  We  were  safe  enough.  The  full 
hull  of  their  own  ship  was  between  the  guns 
and  us. 

"  Young  man,"  said  M.  Radisson,  addressing 
Ben,  "  you  may  speak  less  haughtily,  as  I  come 
in  friendship." 

''Friendship!"  flouted  Ben,  twirling  his 
mustache    and    showing    both    rows    of    teeth. 

167 


HERALDS   OF   EMPIRE 

"  Pooh,  pooh,  M.  Radisson!  You  are  not  talk- 
ing to  a  stripling!  " 

"  I  had  thought  I  was — and  a  ver>'  fool  of  a 
booby,  too,"  answered  M.  Radisson  coolly. 

*'  Sir!  "  roared  young  Gillam  with  a  rumbling 
of  oaths,  and  he  fumbled  his  sword. 

But  his  sword  had  not  left  the  scabbard  be- 
fore M.  de  Radisson  sent  it  spinning  through 
mid-air  into  the  sea. 

"  I  must  ask  your  forgiveness  for  that,  boy," 
said  the  Frenchman  to  Ben,  ''  but  a  gentleman 
fights  only  his  equals." 

Ben  Gillam  went  white  and  red  by  turns,  his 
nose  flushing  and  paling  like  the  wattle  of  an 
angry  turkey;  and  he  stammered  out  that  he 
hoped  M.  de  Radisson  did  not  take  umbrage  at 
the  building  of  a  fort. 

"  We  must  protect  ourselves  from  the  Eng- 
lish," pleaded  Ben. 

''  Pardieu,  yes,"  agreed  M.  de  Radisson, 
proffering  his  own  sword  with  a  gesture  in  place 
of  the  one  that  had  gone  into  the  sea,  ''  and  I 
had  come  to  offer  you  twenty  men  to  hold  the 

fort!" 

Ben    glanced    questioningly    to    his    second 

ofificer. 

''  Bid   that   fellow   draw   off! "    ordered   M. 

Radisson. 

1 68 


M.   RADISSON    BEGINS   THE   GAME 

Dazed  like  a  man  struck  between  the  eyes, 
Ben  did  as  he  was  commanded. 

"  I  told  you  that  I  came  in  friendship,"  be- 
gan Radisson. 

Gillam  waited. 

''  Have  you  lost  a  man,  Ben?  " 

''  No,"  boldly  lied  Gillam. 

"  Has  one  run  away  from  the  island  against 
orders?  " 

"  No,  devil  take  me,  if  I've  lost  a  hand  but 
the  supercargo  that  I  killed." 

"  I  had  thought  that  was  yours,"  said  Radis- 
son, with  contempt  for  the  ruffian's  boast;  and 
he  handed  out  the  paper  taken  from  Jack. 

Ben  staggered  back  w4th  a  great  oath,  vow- 
ing he  would  have  the  scalp  of  the  traitor 
who  lost  that  letter.  Both  stood  silent,  each 
contemplating  the  other.  Then  M.  Radisson 
spoke. 

''  Ben,"  said  he,  never  taking  his  glance  from 
the  young  fellow's  face,  ''  what  will  you  give  me 
if  I  guide  you  to  your  father  this  afternoon?  I 
have  just  come  from  Captain  Gillam.  He  and 
his  crew  are  ill  of  the  scurvy.  Dress  as  a  cou- 
reur  and  I  pass  you  for  a  Frenchman." 

"  My  father!  "  cried  Ben  with  his  jaws  agape 
and  his  wits  at  sea. 

"  Pardieu — yes,  I  said  your  father!  " 

169 


HERALDS    OF   EMPIRE 

"  What  do  you  want  in  return?  "  stammered 
Ben. 

Radisson  uttered  a  laugh  that  had  the  sound 
of  sword-play. 

"  Egad,  'tis  a  hot  supper  I'd  like  better  than 
anything  else  just  now!  If  you  feed  us  well  and 
disguise  yourself  as  a  coureur,  I'll  take  you  at 
sundown!  " 

And  in  spite  of  his  second  ofificer's  signals, 
Ben  Gillam  hailed  us  forthwith  to  the  fort,  where 
M.  Radisson's  keen  eyes  took  in  every  feature 
of  door  and  gate  and  sally-port  and  gun.  While 
the  cook  was  preparing  our  supper  and  Ben  dis- 
guising as  a  French  wood-runner,  we  wandered 
at  will,  M.  Radisson  all  the  while  uttering  low 
laughs  and  words  as  of  thoughts. 

It  was — "  Caught — neat  as  a  mouse  in  a 
trap!  Don't  let  him  spill  the  canoe  when  we're 
running  the  traverse,  Ramsay!  May  the  fiends 
blast  La  Chesnaye  if  he  opens  his  foolish 
mouth  in  Gillam's  hearing!  Where,  think  you, 
may  we  best  secure  him?  Are  the  timbers  of 
your  room  sound?  " 

Or  else — "  Faith,  a  stout  timber  would  hold 
those  main  gates  open!  Egad,  now,  an  a  man 
were  standing  in  this  doorway,  he  might  jam  a 
musket  in  the  hinge  so  the  thing  would  keep 
open!     Those  guns  in  the  bastions  though — 

170 


M.   RADISSON    BEGINS   THE  GAME 

think  you  those  cannon  are  not  pushed  too 
far  through  the  windows  to  be  slued  round 
quickly?  " 

And  much  more  to  the  same  purpose,  which 
told  why  :\I.  Radisson  stooped  to  beg  supper 
from  rivals. 

At  sundown  all  was  ready  for  departure. 
La  Chesnaye  and  the  marquis  had  come  back 
with  the  partridges  that  were  to  make  pretence 
for  our  quick  return  to  the  Prince  Rupert.  Ben 
Gillam  had  disguised  as  a  bush-runner,  and  the 
canoe  lay  ready  to  launch.  Fools  and  children 
unconsciously  do  wise  things  by  mistake,  as  you 
know;  and  'twas  such  an  unwitting  act  sprung  M. 
Radisson's  plans  and  let  the  prize  out  of  the  trap. 

"  Sink  me  an  you  didn't  promise  the  loan 
of  twenty  men  to  hold  the  fort!"  exclaimed 
Ben,  stepping  down. 

"  Twenty — and  more — and  welcome,"  cried 
Radisson  eagerly. 

''  Then  send  Ramsay  and  Monsieur  La  Ches- 
naye back,"  put  in  Ben  quickly.  '''  I  like  not  the 
fort  without  one  head  while  I'm  away." 

"  Willingly,"  and  M.  Radisson's  eyes  glinted 
triumph. 

"  Hold  a  minute!  "  cried  Ben  before  sitting 
down.  "  The  river  is  rough.  Let  two  of  my 
men  take  their  places  in  the  canoe!" 

12  171 


HERALDS   OF    EMPIRE 

M.  Radisson's  breath  drew  sharp  through 
his  teeth.  But  the  trap  was  sprung,  and  he 
yielded  gracefully  enough  to  hide  design. 

"  A  curse  on  the  blundering  cub!  "  he  mut- 
tered, drawing  apart  to  give  me  instructions. 
"  Pardieu — you  must  profit  on  this,  Ramsay! 
Keep  your  eyes  open.  Spoil  a  door-lock  or 
two!  Plug  the  cannon  if  you  can!  ]\Iix  sand 
with  their  powder!  Shift  the  sentinels!  Get  the 
devils  insubordinate " 

"  M.  Radisson!"  shouted  Gillam. 
"  Coming!  "  says  Radisson;  and  he  went  off 
with  his  teeth  gritting  sand. 


172 


CHAPTER    XIII 

THE    WHITE    DARKNESS 

How  much  of  those  instructions  we  carried 
out  I  leave  untold.  Certainly  we  could  not  have 
been  less  grateful  as  guests  than  Ben  Gillam's 
men  were  inhospitable  as  hosts.  A  more  sottish 
crew  of  rakes  you  never  saw.  'Twas  gin  in  the 
morning  and  rum  in  the  afternoon  and  vile  po- 
tions of  mixed  poisons  half  the  night,  with  a 
cracking  of  the  cook's  head  for  withholding 
fresh  kegs  and  a  continual  scuffle  of  fighters 
over  cheating  at  cards.  Xo  marvel  the  second 
officer  flogged  and  carved  at  the  knaves  like  an 
African  slaver.  The  first  night  the  whole  crew 
set  on  us  with  drawn  swords  because  we  refused 
to  gamble  the  doublets  from  our  backs.  La 
Chesnaye  laid  about  with  his  sword  and  I  with 
my  rapier,  till  the  cook  rushed  to  our  rescue  with 
a  kettle  of  lye.  After  that  we  escaped  to  the 
deck  of  the  ship  and  locked  ourselves  inside  Ben 
Gillam's  cabin.  Here  we  heard  the  weather- 
vanes  of  the  fort  bastions  creaking  for  three  days 

173 


HERALDS    OF   EMPIRE 

to  the  shift  of  fickle  winds.  Shore-ice  grew 
thicker  and  stretched  farther  to  mid-current. 
Mock  suns,  or  sun-dogs,  as  we  called  them,  oft 
hung  on  each  side  of  the  sun.  La  Chesnaye  said 
these  boded  ill  weather. 

Sea-birds  caught  the  first  breath  of  storm 
and  wheeled  landward  with  shrill  calls,  and  once 
La  Chesnaye  and  I  made  out  through  the  ship's 
glass  a  vast  herd  of  caribou  running  to  sniff  the 
gale  from  the  crest  of  an  inland  hill. 

"  If  Radisson  comes  not  back  soon  we  are 
storm-bound  here  for  the  winter.  As  you  live, 
we  are,"  grumbled  the  merchant. 

But  prompt  as  the  ring  of  a  bell  to  the  clap- 
per came  Pierre  Radisson  on  the  third  day,  well 
pleased  with  what  he  had  done  and  alert  to  keep 
two  of  us  outside  the  fort  in  spite  of  Ben's  ur- 
gings  to  bring  the  French  in  for  refreshments. 

The  wind  was  shifting  in  a  way  that  por- 
tended a  nor'easter,  and  the  weather  would  pres- 
ently be  too  inclement  for  us  to  remain  outside. 
That  hastened  M.  Radisson's  departure,  though 
sun-dogs  and  the  long,  shrill  whistling  of  con- 
trary winds  foretold  what  was  brewing. 

*'  Sink  me,  after  such  kindness,  I'll  see  you 
part  way  home!  By  the  Lord  Harry,  I  will!" 
swore  Ben. 

M.  Radisson  screwed  his  eyes  nigh  shut  and 

174 


THE   WHITE    DARKNESS 

protested  he  could  not  permit  young  Captain 
Gillam  to  take  such  trouble. 

'''  The  young  villain,"  mutters  La  Chesnaye, 
"  he  wants  to  spy  which  way  we  go." 

"  Come!  Come!  "  cries  Ben.  ''  If  you  say 
another  word  I  go  all  the  way  with  you!  " 

'*'  To  spy  on  our  fort,"  whispers  La  Chesnaye. 

:M.  Radisson  responds  that  nothing  would 
give  greater  pleasure. 

''  I've  half  a  mind  to  do  it,"  hesitates  Ben, 
looking  doubtfully  at  us. 

"  To  be  sure,"  urges  ^M.  Radisson,  "'  come 
along  and  have  a  Christmas  with  our  merry 
blades!" 

"Why,  then,  by  the  Lord,  I  will!"  decides 
Gillam.  "  That  is,"  he  added,  ^*  if  you'll  send  the 
marquis  and  his  man,  there,  back  to  my  fort  as 
hostages." 

:M.  Radisson  twirled  his  mustaches  thought- 
fully, gave  the  marquis  the  same  instructions  in 
French  as  he  had  given  us  when  we  were  left  in 
the  New  Englander's  fort,  and  turning  with  a 
calm  face  to  Ben,  bade  him  get  into  our 
canoe. 

But  when  we  launched  out  M.  Radisson 
headed  the  craft  up-stream  in  the  wrong  direc- 
tion, whither  we  paddled  till  nightfall.  It  was 
cold  enough  in  all  conscience  to  afford  Ben  Gil- 

175 


HERALDS   OF    EMPIRE 

lam  excuse  for  tipping  a  flask  from  his  jacket- 
pouch  to  his  teeth  every  minute  or  two;  but 
when  we  were  rested  and  ready  to  launch  again, 
the  young  captain's  brain  was  so  befuddled  that 
he  scarce  knew  whether  he  were  in  Boston  or  on 
Hudson  Bay. 

This  time  we  headed  straight  down-stream, 
Ben  nodding  and  dozing  from  his  place  in  the 
middle,  M.  Radisson,  La  Chesnaye,  and  I  poling 
hard  to  keep  the  drift-ice  of¥.  We  avoided  the 
New  Englander's  fort  by  going  on  the  other  side 
of  the  island,  and  when  w^e  shot  past  Governor 
Brigdar's  stockades  with  the  lights  of  the  Prince 
Rupert  blinking  through  the  dark,  Ben  was  fast 
asleep. 

And  all  the  while  the  winds  were  piping  over- 
head with  a  roar  as  from  the  wings  of  the  great 
storm  bird  which  broods  over  all  that  north- 
land.  Then  the  blore  of  the  trumpeting  wind 
was  answered  by  a  counter  fugue  from  the  sea, 
with  a  roll  and  pound  of  breakers  across  the  sand 
of  the  traverse.  Carried  by  the  swift  current, 
we  had  shot  into  the  bay.  It  was  morning,  but 
the  black  of  night  had  given  place  to  the  white 
darkness  of  northern  storm.  Ben  Gillam  jerked 
up  sober  and  grasped  an  idle  pole  to  lend  a  hand. 
Through  the  whirl  of  spray  M.  Radisson's  figure 
loomed  black  at  the  bow,  and  above  the  boom  of 

1/6 


THE   WHITE    DARKNESS 

tumbling  waves  came  the  grinding  as  of  an  earth- 
quake. 

''  We  are  lost!  We  are  lost!  "  shrieked  Gil- 
lam  in  panic,  cowering  back  to  the  stern.  *'  The 
storm's  drifted  down  polar  ice  from  the  north 
and  we're  caught!    We're  caught!  "  he  cried. 

He  sprang  to  his  feet  as  if  to  leap  into  that 
w'hite  waste  of  seething  ice  foam.  'Twas  the 
frenzy  of  terror,  which  oft  seizes  men  adrift  on 
ice.  In  another  moment  he  would  have  swamped 
us  under  the  pitching  crest  of  a  mountain  sea. 
But  M.  Radisson  turned.  One  blow  of  his  pole 
and  the  foolish  youth  fell  senseless  to  the  bottom 
of  the  canoe. 

"Look,  sir,  look!"  screamed  La  Chesnaye, 
"  the  canoe's  getting  ice-logged!  She's  sunk  to 
the  gun'ales!  " 

But  at  the  moment  when  ^I.  Radisson  turned 
to  save  young  Gillam,  the  unguided  canoe  had 
darted  between  two  rolling  seas.  Walls  of  ice 
rose  on  either  side.  A  white  whirl — a  mighty 
rush — a  tumult  of  roaring  waters — the  ice  walls 
pitched  down — the  canoe  was  caught — tossed 
up — nipped — crushed  hke  a  card-box — and  we 
four  flung  on  the  drenching  ice-pans  to  a  roll 
of  the  seas  like  to  sweep  us  under,  with  a  footing 
slippery  as  glass. 

"  Keep  hold  of  Gillam!    Lock  hands!  "  came 

W7 


HERALDS   OF    EMPIRE 

a  clarion  voice  through  the  storm.  "  Don't  fear, 
men!  There  is  no  danger!  The  gale  will  drive 
us  ashore!  Don't  fear!  Hold  tight!  Hold  tight! 
There's  no  danger  if  you  have  no  fear!  " 

The  ice  heaved  and  flung  to  the  roll  of  the 
drift. 

"  Hold  fast  and  your  wet  sleeves  will  freeze 
you  to  the  ice!  Steady!  "  he  called,  as  the  thing 
fell  and  rose  again. 

Then,  with  the  hiss  of  the  world  serpent  that 
pursues  man  to  his  doom,  we  were  scudding  be- 
fore a  mountain  swell.  There  was  the  splinter- 
ing report  of  a  cannon-shot.  The  ice  split.  We 
clung  the  closer.  The  rush  of  waves  swept  under 
us,  around  us,  above  us.  There  came  a  crash. 
The  thing  gave  from  below.  The  powers  of 
darkness  seemed  to  close  over  us,  the  jaws  of  the 
world  serpent  shut  upon  their  prey,  the  spirit  of 
evil  shrieked  its  triumph. 

Our  feet  touched  bottom.  The  waves  fell 
back,  and  we  were  ashore  on  the  sand-bar  of  the 
traverse. 

"Run!  Run  for  your  lives!"  shouted  Ra- 
disson,  jerking  up  Gillam,  w^hom  the  shock  had 
brought  to  his  senses.     "  Lock  hands  and  run!  " 

And  run  we  did,  like  those  spirits  in  the  twi- 
light of  the  lost,  with  never  a  hope  of  rescue  and 
never  a  respite  from  fear,  hand  gripping  hand, 

1/8 


THE   WHITE    DARKNESS 

the  tide  and  the  gale  and  the  driving  sleet  yelp- 
ing wolfishly  at  our  heels!  'Twas  the  old,  old 
story  of  Man  leaping  undaunted  as  a  warrior  to 
conquer  his  foes — turned  back! — beaten! — pur- 
sued by  serpent  and  wolf,  spirit  of  darkness  and 
power  of  destruction,  with  the  light  of  life  flick- 
ering low  and  the  endless  frosts  creeping  close 
to  a  heart  beating  faint! 

Oh,  those  were  giants  that  we  set  forth  to 
conquer  in  that  harsh  northland — the  giants  of 
the  warring  elements!  And  giants  were  needed 
for  the  task. 

Think  you  of  that  when  you  hear  the  slight- 
ing scorn  of  the  rough  pioneer,  because  he 
minceth  not  his  speech,  nor  weareth  ruffs  at  his 
wrists,  nor  bendeth  so  low  at  the  knee  as  your 
Old-Worldhero! 

The  earth  fell  away  from  our  feet.  We  all 
four  tumbled  forward.  The  storm  whistled  past 
overhead.  And  we  lay  at  the  bottom  of  a  cliff 
that  seemed  to  shelter  a  multitude  of  shadowy 
forms.  W&  had  fallen  to  a  ravine  where  the  vast 
caribou  herds  had  wandered  from  the  storm. 

Says  M.  Radisson,  with  a  depth  of  reverence 
which  words  cannot  tell,  *'  Men,"  says  he, 
'*'  thank  God  for  this  deliverance!  " 

So  unused  to  man's  presence  were  the  cari- 

179 


HERALDS    OF    EMPIRE 

bou,  or  perhaps  so  stupefied  by  the  storm,  they 
let  us  wander  to  the  centre  of  the  herd,  round 
which  the  great  bucks  had  formed  a  cordon  with 
their  backs  to  the  wind  to  protect  the  does  and 
the  young.  The  heat  from  the  multitude  of  bod- 
ies warmed  us  back  to  Ufe,  and  I  make  no  doubt 
the  finding  of  that  herd  was  God  Almighty's 
provision  for  our  safety. 

For  three  days  we  wandered  with  nothing  to 
eat  but  wild  birds  done  to  death  by  the  gale.* 
On  the  third  day  the  storm  abated;  but  it  was 
still  snowing  too  heavily  for  us  to  see  a  man's 
length  away.  Two  or  three  times  the  caribou 
tossed  up  their  heads  sniffing  the  air  suspicious- 
ly, and  La  Chesnaye  fell  to  cursing  lest  the  wolf- 
pack  should  stampede  the  herd.  At  this  Gillam, 
whose  hulking  body  had  wasted  from  lack  of 
bulky  rations,  began  to  whimper — 

''  If  the  wolf-pack  come  we  are  lost!  " 

"  Man,"  says  Radisson  sternly,  "  say  thy 
prayers  and  thank  God  we  are  alive!  " 

The  caribou  began  to  rove  aimlessly  for  a 
time,  then  they  were  off  with  a  rush  that  bare 
gave  us  chance  to  escape  the  army  of  clicking 
hoofs.  We  were  left  unprotected  in  the  falling 
snow. 

*  See  Radisson's  account — Prince  Society  (18S5),  Boston — 
Bodleian  Library. — Canadian  Archives,  i895-'96. 

180 


THE   WHITE   DARKNESS 

The  primal  instincts  come  uppermost  at  such 
times,  and  like  the  wild  creatures  of  the  woods 
facing  a  foe,  instantaneously  we  wheeled  back  to 
back,  alert  for  the  enemy  that  had  frightened  the 
caribou. 

'*  Hist!  "  whispers  Radisson.    "  Look!  " 

Ben  Gillam  leaped  into  the  air  as  if  he  had 
been  shot,  shrieking  out:  "  It's  him!  It's  him! 
Shoot  him!  The  thief!  The  traitor!  It's 
him!" 

He  dashed  forward,  followed  by  the  rest  of 
us,  hardly  sure  whether  Ben  were  sane. 

Three  figures  loomed  through  the  snowy 
darkness,  white  and  silent  as  the  snow  itself — 
vague  as  phantoms  in  mist — pointing  at  us  like 
wraiths  of  death — spirit  hunters  incarnate  of  that 
vast  wilderness  riding  the  riotous  storm  over 
land  and  sea.  One  swung  a  weapon  aloft. 
There  was  the  scream  as  of  a  woman's  cry — and 
the  shrieking  wind  had  swept  the  snow-clouds 
about  us  in  a  blind  fury  that  blotted  all  sight. 
And  when  the  combing  billows  of  drift  passed, 
the  apparition  had  faded.  We  four  stood  alone 
staring  in  space  with  strange  questionings. 

"Egad!"  gasped  Radisson,  ''I  don't  mind 
when  the  wind  howls  like  a  wolf,  but  when  it 
takes  to  the  death-scream,  with  snow  like  the 

skirts  of  a  shroud " 

i8i 


HERALDS    OF    EMPIRE 

"May  the  Lord  have  mercy  on  us!"  mut- 
tered La  Chesnaye,  crossing  himself.  ''  It  is  sign 
of  death!  That  was  a  woman's  figure.  It  is 
sign  of  death!  " 

''Sign  of  death!"  raged  Ben,  stamping  his 
impotent  fury,  ''  'tis  him — 'tis  him!  The  Judas 
Iscariot,  and  he's  left  us  to  die  so  that  he  may 
steal  the  furs! " 

"Hold  quiet!"  ordered  M.  Radisson. 
"  Look,  you  rantipole — who  is  that?  " 

'Twas  Le  Borgne,  the  one-eyed,  emerging 
from  the  gloom  of  the  snow  like  a  ghost.  By 
siens  and  Indian  words  the  fellow  offered  to 
guide  us  back  to  our  Habitation. 

We  reached  the  fort  that  night,  Le  Borgne 
flitting  away  like  a  shadow,  as  he  had  come. 

And  the  first  thing  w^e  did  was  to  hold  a  serv- 
ice of  thanks  to  God  Almighty  for  our  deliver- 
ance. 


182 


CHAPTER    XIV 

A    CHALLENGE 

Filling  the  air  with  ghost-shadows,  silen- 
cing earth,  muffling  the  sea,  day  after  day  fell 
the  snow.  Shore-ice  barred  out  the  pounding 
surf.  The  river  had  frozen  to  adamant.  Brush- 
wood sank  in  the  deepening  drifts  like  a  foun- 
dered ship,  and  all  that  remained  visible  of  ever- 
greens was  an  occasional  spar  or  snow  mush- 
room on  the  crest  of  a  branch. 

No  east,  no  west,  no  day,  no  night;  nothing 
but  a  white  darkness,  billowing  snow,  and  a  si- 
lence as  of  death.  It  was  the  cold,  silent,  mystic, 
white  world  of  northern  winter. 

At  one  moment  the  fort  door  flings  w'ide  with 
a  rush  of  frost  like  smoke  clouds,  and  in  stamps 
Godefroy,  shaking  snow  off  with  boisterous  noise 
and  vowing  by  the  saints  that  the  drifts  are  as 
hio-h  as  the  St.  Pierre's  deck.  M.  Groseillers 
orders  the  rascal  to  shut  the  door;  but  bare  has 
the  latch  clicked  w^hen  young  Jean  whisks  in, 
tossing  snow  from  cap  and  gauntlets  like  a  clip- 

183 


HERALDS    OF    EMPIRE 

per  shaking  a  reef  to  the  spray,  and  declares  that 
the  snow  is  already  level  with  the  fort  walls. 

"  Eh,  nephew,"  exclaims  Radisson  sharply, 
*'  how  are  the  cannon?  " 

Ben  Gillam,  who  has  lugged  himself  from 
bed  to  the  hearth  for  the  first  time  since  his 
freezing,  blurts  out  a  taunting  laugh.  We  had 
done  better  to  build  on  the  sheltered  side  of  an 
island,  he  informs  us. 

"  Now,  the  shivers  take  me!"  cries  Ben,  ''but 
where  a  deuce  are  all  your  land  forces  and  ma- 
rines and  jack-tars  and  forty  thousand  officers?  " 

He  cast  a  scornful  look  down  our  long,  low- 
roofed  barracks,  counting  the  men  gathered 
round  the  hearth  and  laughing  as  he  counted. 
M.  Radisson  afTected  not  to  hear,  telling  Jean 
to  hoist  the  cannon  and  puncture  embrasures 
high  to  the  bastion-roofs  like  Italian  towers. 

''  Monsieur  Radisson,"  impudently  mouths 
Ben,  who  had  taken  more  rum  for  his  health 
than  was  good  for  his  head,  "  I  asked  you  to  in- 
form me  where  your  land  forces  are?  " 

"  Outside  the  fort  constructing  a  breast- 
work of  snow." 

"  Good!  "  sneers  Ben.    "  And  the  marines?  " 

*'  On  the  ships,  where  they  ought  to  be." 

"Good!"  laughs  Gillam  again.  "And  the 
officers?  " 

184 


A   CHALLENGE 

**  Superintending  the  raising  of  the  cannon. 
And  I  would  have  you  to  know,  young  man," 
adds  Radisson,  ''  that  when  a  guest  asks  too 
many  questions,  a  host  may  not  answer." 

But  Ben  goes  on  unheeding. 

"  Now  I'll  wager  that  dog  of  a  runaway 
slave  o'  mine,  that  Jack  Battle  who's  hiding 
hereabouts,  I'll  wager  the  hangdog  slave  and 
pawn  my  head  you  haven't  a  corporal's  guard  o' 
marines  and  land  forces  all  told!  " 

;M.  Radisson  never  allowed  an  enemy's  taunt 
to  hasten  speech  or  act.  He  looked  at  Ben  with 
a  measuring  glance  which  sized  that  fellow  very 
small  indeed. 

"  Then  I  must  decline  your  wager,  Ben,"  says 
he.  "  In  the  first  place.  Jack  Battle  is  mine  al- 
ready. In  the  second,  you  w^ould  lose  ten  times 
over.  In  the  third,  you  have  few  enough  men 
already.  And  in  the  fourth,  your  head  isn't 
worth  pawn  for  a  wager;  though  I  may  take 
you,  body  and  boots,  all  the  same,"  adds  he. 

With  that  he  goes  ofif,  leaving  Ben  blowing 
curses  into  the  fire  like  a  bellows.  The  young 
rake  bawled  out  for  more  gin,  and  with  head 
sunk  on  his  chest  began  muttering  to  him- 
self— 

''  That  black-eyed,  false-hearted,  slippery 
French  eel! "  he  mumbles,  rapping  out  an  oath. 

185 


HERALDS    OF   EMPIRE 

"  Now  the  devil  fly  off  with  me,  an  I  don't  slit 
him  like  a  Dutch  herring  for  a  traitor  and  a 
knave  and  a  thief  and  a  cheat!  By  Judas,  if  he 
doesn't  turn  up  with  the  furs,  I'll  do  to  him  as  I 
did  to  the  supercargo  last  week,  and  bury  him 
deep  in  the  bastion!  Very  fine,  him  that  was  to 
get  the  furs  hiding  inland!  Him,  that  didn't  add 
a  cent  to  what  Kirke  and  Stocking  paid;  they  to 
supply  the  money,  my  father  to  keep  the  com- 
pany from  knowing,  and  me  to  sail  the  ship — 
him,  that  might  'a'  hung  in  Boston  but  for  my 
father  towing  him  out  o'  port — him  the  first  to 
turn  knave  and  steal  all  the  pelts!  " 

"  Who?  "  quietly  puts  in  M.  Groseillers,  who 
had  been  listening  with  wide  eyes. 

But  Ben's  head  rolled  drunkenly  and  he  slid 
down  in  sodden  sleep. 

Again  the  fort  door  opened  with  the  rush  of 
frost  clouds,  and  in  the  midst  of  the  white  va- 
pour hesitated  three  men.  The  door  softly 
closed,  and  Le  Borgne  stole  forward. 

"  White-man  —  promise  —  no — hurt — good 
Indian?  "  he  asked. 

"  The  white-man  is  Le  Borgne's  friend,"  as- 
sured Groseillers,  "  but  who  are  these?  " 

He  pointed  to  two  figures,  more  dead  than 
alive,  chittering  with  cold. 

Le  Borgne's  foxy  eye  took  on  a  stolid  look. 

1 86 


A   CHALLENGE 

"White-men  —  lost  —  in  the  snow,"  said  he, 
"  white-man  from  the  big  white  canoe— come 
walkee  —  walkee  —  one  —  two  —  three  sleep — 
watchee  good  Indian — friend — fort!" 

M.  Groseillers  sprang  to  his  feet  muttering 
of  treachery  from  Governor  Brigdar  of  the  Hud- 
son's Bay  Company,  and  put  himself  in  front  of 
the  intruders  so  that  Ben  could  not  see.  But  the 
poor  fellows  were  so  frozen  that  they  could  only 
mumble  out  something  about  the  Prince  Rupert 
having  foundered,  carrying  half  the  crew  to  the 
river  bottom.  Hurrying  the  two  Englishmen 
to  another  part  of  the  fort,  M.  Groseillers  bade 
me  run  for  Radisson. 

I  wish  that  you  could  have  seen  the  trium- 
phant glint  laughing  in  Pierre  Radisson's  eyes 
when  I  told  him. 

"Fate  deals  the  cards!  'Tis  we  must  play 
them!  This  time  the  jade  hath  trumped  her 
partner's  ace!  Ha,  ha,  Ramsay!  We  could  'a' 
captured  both  father  and  son  with  a  flip  o'  the 
finger!  Now  there's  only  need  to  hold  the  son! 
Governor  Brigdar  must  beg  passage  from  us  to 
leave  the  bay;  but  who  a  deuce  are  those  inland- 
ers that  Ben  Gillam  keeps  raving  against  for 
hiding  the  furs?  " 

And  he  flung  the  mess-room  door  open  so 
forcibly  that  Ben  Gillam  waked  with  a  jump.    At 
13  187 


HERALDS   OF   EMPIRE 

sight  of  Le  Borgne  the  young  New  Englander 
sprang  over  the  benches  with  his  teeth  agleam 
and  murder  on  his  face.  But  the  Hquor  had  gone 
to  his  knees.  He  keeled  head  over  Hke  a  top- 
heavy  brig,  and  when  we  dragged  him  up  Le 
Borgne  had  bohed. 

All  that  night  Ben  swore  deliriously  that  he 
would  do  worse  to  Le  Borgne's  master  than  he 
had  done  to  the  supercargo;  but  he  never  by  any 
chance  let  slip  who  Le  Borgne's  master  might 
be,  though  M.  Radisson,  Chouart  Groseillers, 
young  Jean,  and  I  kept  watch  by  turns  lest  the 
drunken  knave  should  run  amuck  of  our  French- 
men. I  mind  once,  when  M.  Radisson  and  I  were 
sitting  quiet  by  the  bunk  where  Ben  was  berthed, 
the  young  rake  sat  up  with  a  fog-horn  of  a  yell 
and  swore  he  would  slice  that  pirate  of  a  Radis- 
son and  all  his  cursed  Frenchies  into  meat  for  the 
dogs. 

M.  Radisson  looked  through  the  candle-light 
and  smiled.  ''  If  you  want  to  know  your  charac- 
ter, Ramsay,"  says  he,  "  get  your  enemy  talk- 
ing in  his  cups!  " 

"  Shiver  my  soul,  if  I'd  ever  come  to  his  fort 
but  to  find  out  how  strong  the  liar  is!"  cries 
Ben. 

''  Hm!  I  thought  so,"  says  M.  de  Radisson, 
pushing  the  young  fellow  back  to  his  pillow  and 

i88 


A   CHALLENGE 

fastening  the  fur  robes  close  lest  frost  steamed 
through  the  ill-chinked  logs. 

By  Christmas  Ben  Gillam  and  Jack  Battle 
of  the  New  Englanders'  fort  and  the  two  spies 
of  the  Hudson's  Bay  Company  had  all  recovered 
enough  from  their  freezing  to  go  about.    What 
with  keeping  the  English  and  New  Englanders 
from  knowing  of  each  other's  presence,  we  had 
as  twisted  a  piece  of  by-play  as  you  could  want. 
Ben  Gillam  and  Jack  we  dressed  as  bushrangers; 
the  Hudson's  Bay  spies  as  French  marines.    Nei- 
ther suspected  the  others  were  English,  nor  ever 
crossed  words  while  with  us.     iVnd  whatever 
enemies  say  of  Pierre  Radisson,  I  would  have 
you  remember  that  he  treated  his  captives  so 
well  that  chains  would  not  have  dragged  them 
back  to  their  own  masters. 

''  How  can  I  handle  all  the  English  of  both 
forts  unless  I  win  some  of  them  for  friends?  "  he 
would  ask,  never  laying  unction  to  his  soul  for 
the  kindness  that  he  practised. 

By  Christmas,  too,  the  snow  had  ceased  fall- 
ing and  the  frost  turned  the  land  to  a  silent, 
white,  paleocrystic  world.  Sap-frozen  timbers 
cracked  with  the  loud,  sharp  snapping  of  pistol- 
shots— then  the  white  silence!  The  river  ice 
splintered  to  the  tightening  grip  of  winter  with 
the  grinding  of  an  earthquake,  and  again  the 

189 


HERALDS   OF   EMPIRE 

white  silence!  Or  the  heavy  night  air,  lying 
thick  with  frost  smoke  like  a  pall  over  earth, 
would  reverberate  to  the  deep  hayings  of  the 
wolf-pack,  and  over  all  would  close  the  white 
silence! 

As  if  to  defy  the  powers  of  that  deathly 
realm,  M.  de  Radisson  had  the  more  logs  heaped 
on  our  hearth  and  doubled  the  men's  rations. 
On  Christmas  morning  he  had  us  all  out  to  fire 
a  salute,  Ben  Gillam  and  Jack  and  the  two  Fur 
Company  spies  disguised  as  usual,  and  the  rest  of 
us  muffed  to  our  eyes.  Jackets  and  tompions 
were  torn  from  the  cannon.  Unfrosted  priming 
was  distributed.  Flags  were  run  up  on  boats 
and  bastions.  Then  the  word  was  given  to  fire 
and  cheer  at  the  top  of  our  voices. 

Ben  Gillam  was  sober  enough  that  morning 
but  in  the  mood  of  a  ruffian  stale  from  over- 
night brawls.  Hardly  had  the  rocking  echoes  of 
cannonading  died  away  when  the  rascal  strode 
boldly  forward  in  front  of  us  all,  up  with  his 
musket,  took  quick  aim  at  the  main  flagstaff  and 
fired.  The  pole  splintered  off  at  the  top  and 
the  French  flag  fluttered  to  the  ground. 

"  There's  for  you  —  you  Frenchies  !  "  he 
shouted.    ''  See  the  old  rag  tumble!  " 

Twas  the  only  time  M.  Radisson  gave  vent 

to  wrath. 

190 


A   CHALLENGE 

"  Dog! "  he  ground  out,  wrenching  the  gun 
from  Gillam's  hands. 

"  Avast !  Avast !  "  cries  Ben.  "He  who  lives 
in  glass-houses  needs  not  to  throw  stones! 
Mind  that,  ye  pirate!" 

''Dog!"  repeats  M.  Radisson,  "dare  to 
show    disrespect    to    the    Most    Christian    of 

Kings!" 

"Most  Christian  of  Kings!"  flouts  Ben. 
"I'll  return  to  my  fort!  Then  I'll  show  you 
what  I'll  give  the  Most  Christian  of  Kings!" 

La  Chesnaye  rushed  up  with  rash  threat;  but 
M.  de  Radisson  pushed  the  merchant  aside  and 
stood  very  still,  looking  at  Ben. 

"  Young  man,"  he  began,  as  quietly  as  if  he 
were  wishing  Ben  the  season's  compliments,  "  I 
brought  you  to  this  fort  for  the  purpose  of  keep- 
ing you  in  this  fort,  and  it  is  for  me  to  say  when 
you  may  leave  this  fort!  " 

Ben  rumbled  out  a  string  of  oaths,  and  M. 
Radisson  motioned  the  soldiers  to  encircle  him. 
Then  all  Ben's  pot-valiant  bravery  ebbed. 

"  Am  I  a  prisoner? "  he  demanded  sav- 
agely. 

"  Prisoner  or  guest,  according  to  your  con- 
duct," answered  Radisson  lightly.  Then  to  the 
men — "  Form  line — march!  " 

At  the  word  we  filed  into  the  guard-room, 

191 


HERALDS   OF   EMPIRE 

where  the  soldiers  relieved  Gillam  of  pistol  and 
sword.  "^- — ^^ 

''  Am  I  to  be  shot?  Am  I  to  be  shot?  "  cried 
Gillam,  white  with  terror  at  M.  Radisson's  order 
to  load  muskets.  ''  Am  I  to  be  shot?  "  he  whim- 
pered. 

"  Not  unless  you  do  it  yourself,  and  'twould 
be  the  most  graceful  act  of  your  life,  Ben!  And 
now,"  said  M.  Radisson,  dismissing  all  the  men 
but  one  sentinel  for  the  door,  ''  and  now,  Ben,  a 
Merry  Christmas  to  you,  and  may  it  be  your  last 
in  Hudson  Bay!  " 

With  that  he  left  Ben  Gillam  prisoner;  but 
he  ordered  special  watch  to  be  kept  on  the  fort 
bastions  lest  Ben's  bravado  portended  attack. 
The  next  morning  he  asked  Ben  to  breakfast 
with  our  stafT. 

"  The  compliments  of  the  morning  to  you. 
And  I  trust  you  rested  well!"  M.  Radisson 
called  out. 

Ben  wished  that  he  might  be  cursed  if  any 
man  could  rest  well  on  bare  boards  rimed  with 
frost  like  curdled  milk. 

''Cheer  up,  man!  Cheer  up!"  encourages 
Radisson.    "  There's  to  be  a  capture  to-day!  " 

''A  capture!"  reiterates  Ben,  glowering 
black  across  the  table  and  doffing  his  cap  with 
bad  grace. 

192 


A   CHALLENGE 

*'Aye,  I  said  a  capture!  Egad,  lad,  one  fort 
and  one  ship  are  prize  enough  for  one  day!  " 

"  Sink  my  soul,"  flouts  Gillam,  looking  inso- 
lently down  the  table  to  the  rows  of  ragged  sail- 
ors sitting  beyond  our  ofiftcers,  ''  if  every  man  o' 
your  rough-scuff  had  the  nine  lives  of  a  cat,  their 
nine  lives  would  be  shot  down  before  they 
reached  our  palisades!" 

''  Is  it  a  wager?  "  demands  M.  Radisson. 
"  A  wager — ship  and  fort  and  myself  to  boot 
if  you  W'in!  " 

''  Done!  "  cries  La  Chesnaye. 
^'Ah,  well,"  calculates  :\i.   Radisson,   ''the 
ship  and  the  fort  are  worth  something!     When 
we've  taken  them,  Ben  can  go.     Nine  lives  for 
each  man,  did  you  say?  " 

"A  hundred,  if  you  like,"  boasts  the  New 
Englander,  letting  fly  a  broadside  of  oaths  at 
the  Frenchman's  slur.  "  A  hundred  men  wdth 
nine  lives,  if  you  like!    We've  powder  for  all!  " 

"  Ben!  "  M.  Radisson  rose.  "  Two  men  are 
in  the  fort  now!  Pick  me  out  seven  more!  That 
will  make  nine!  With  those  nine  I  own  your 
fort  by  nightfall  or  I  set  you  free!  " 

''  Done!  "  shouts  Ben.  ''  Every  man  here  a 
witness!" 

"  Choose!  "  insists  M.  Radisson. 
Sailors  and  soldiers  were  all  on  their  feet  ges- 

193 


HERALDS   OF   EMPIRE 

ticulating  and  laughing  ;  for  Godefroy  was 
translating  into  French  as  fast  as  the  leaders 
talked. 

"  Choose!  "  urges  M.  Radisson,  leaning  over 
to  snuff  out  the  great  breakfast  candle  with  bare 
fingers  as  if  his  hand  were  iron. 

"  Shiver  my  soul,  then,"  laughs  Ben,  in  high 
feather,  ''  let  the  first  be  that  little  Jack  Sprat  of 
a  half-frozen  Battle!    He's  loyal  to  me!  " 

''  Good!  "  smiles  M.  Radisson.  "  Come  over 
here,  Jack  Battle." 

Jack  Battle  jumped  over  the  table  and  stood 
behind  M.  Radisson  as  second  lieutenant,  Ben's 
eyes  gaping  to  see  Jack's  disguise  of  bushranger 
like  himself. 

"  Go  on,"  orders  M.  Radisson,  "  choose 
whom  you  will!  " 

The  soldiers  broke  into  ringing  cheers. 

"  Devil  take  you,  Radisson,"  ejaculates  Ben 
familiarly,  "  such  cool  impudence  would  chill 
the  Nick!" 

"  That  is  as  it  may  be,"  retorts  Radisson. 
"Choose!    We  must  be  off!" 

Again  the  soldiers  cheered. 

"  Well,  there's  that  turncoat  of  a  Stanhope 
with  his  fine  airs.  I'd  rather  see  him  shot  next 
than  any  one  else!  " 

"  Thank  you,  Ben,"  said  I. 

194 


A   CHALLENGE 

'*  Come  over  here,  Ramsay,"  orders  Radis- 
son.    ''  That's  two.    Go  on!    Five  more!  " 

The  soldiers  fell  to  laughing  and  Ben  to  pull- 
ing at  his  mustache. 

''  That  money-bag  of  a  La  Chesnaye  next," 
mutters  Ben.  **  He's  lady  enough  to  faint  at 
first  shot." 

"  There'll  be  no  first  shot.  Come,  La  Ches- 
naye! Three.  Goon!  Go  on,  Ben!  Your  wits 
work  slow!  " 

*'  Allemand,  the  pilot!  He  is  drunk  most  of 
the  time." 

''  Four,"  counts  M.  Radisson.  "  Come  over 
here,  Allemand!  You're  drunk  most  of  the  time, 
like  Ben.    Go  on!  " 

"  Godefroy,  the  EngHsh  trader — he  sulks — 
he's  English— he'll  do!" 

"  Five,"  laughs  M.  Radisson. 

And  for  the  remaining  two,  Ben  Gillam  chose 
a  scullion  lad  and  a  wretched  Httle  stowaway, 
who  had  kept  hidden  under  hatches  till  we  were 
too  far  out  to  send  him  back.  At  the  last  choice 
our  men  shouted  and  clapped  and  stamped  and 
broke  into  snatches  of  song  about  conquerors. 


195 


CHAPTER   XV 

THE   BATTLE    NOT   TO    THE    STRONG 

M.  Radisson  turned  the  sand-glass  up  to 
time  our  preparations.  Before  the  last  grain 
fell  we  seven  were  out,  led  by  M.  Radisson, 
speeding  over  the  snow-drifted  marsh  through 
the  thick  frosty  darkness  that  lies  like  a  blanket 
over  that  northland  at  dawn.  The  air  hung 
heavy,  gray,  gritty  to  the  touch  with  ice-frost. 
The  hard-packed  drifts  crisped  to  our  tread  with 
little  noises  which  I  can  call  by  no  other  name 
than  frost-shots.  Frost  pricked  the  taste  to  each 
breath.  Endless  reaches  of  frost  were  all  that 
met  the  sight.  Frost-crackHng  the  only  sound. 
Frost  in  one's  throat  Hke  a  drink  of  water,  and 
the  tingle  of  the  frost  in  the  blood  with  a  leap 
that  was  fulness  of  life. 

Up  drifts  with  the  help  of  our  muskets! 
Down  hills  with  a  rush  of  snow-shoes  that  set 
the  powdery  snow  flying!  Skimming  the  levels 
with  the  silent  speed  of  wings!  Past  the  snow 
mushrooms  topping  underbrush  and  the  snow 

196 


BATTLE  NOT  TO  THE  STUONG 

cones  of  the  evergreens  and  the  snow  billows  of 
under  rocks  and  the  snow-wreathed  antlers  of 
the  naked  forest  in  a  world  of  snow! 

The  morning  stars  paled  to  steel  pin-pricks 
through  a  gray  sky.  Shadows  took  form  in  the 
frost.  The  slant  rays  of  a  southern  sun  struck 
through  the  frost  clouds  in  spears.  Then  the 
frost  smoke  rose  like  mist,  and  the  white  glare 
shone  as  a  sea.  In  another  hour  it  would  be  high 
noon  of  the  short  shadow.  Every  coat— beaver 
and  bear  and  otter  and  raccoon — hung  open, 
every  capote  flung  back,  every  runner  hot  as  in 
midsummer,  though  frost-rime  edged  the  hair 
like  snow.  When  the  sun  lay  like  a  fiery  shield 
half-way  across  the  southern  horizon,  M.  Radis- 
son  called  a  halt  for  nooning. 

"  Now,  remember,  my  brave  lads,"  said  he, 
after  he  had  outlined  his  plans,  drawing  figures  of 
fort  and  ship  and  army  of  seven  on  the  snow, 
"  now,  remember,  if  you  do  what  I've  told  you, 
not  a  shot  will  be  fired,  not  a  drop  of  blood 
spilled,  not  a  grain  of  powder  used,  and  to  every 
man  free  tobacco  for  the  winter " 

''  If  we  succeed,"  interjects  Godefroy  sul- 
lenly. 

'*//,"  repeats  M.  Radisson;  "  an  I  hear  that 
word  again  there  will  be  a  carving!  " 

Long  before  we  came  to  the  north  river  near 

197 


HERALDS    OF   EMPIRE 

the  Hudson's  Bay  Company's  fort,  the  sun  had 
wheeled  across  the  horizon  and  sunk  in  a  sea  of 
snow,  but  now  that  the  Prince  Rupert  had  foun- 
dered, the  capture  of  these  helpless  Englishmen 
was  no  object  to  us.  Unless  a  ship  from  the 
south  end  of  the  bay  came  to  rescue  them  they 
were  at  our  mercy.  Hastening  up  the  river 
course  we  met  Governor  Brigdar  sledding  the  ice 
with  a  dog-team  of  huskies. 

"  The  compliments  of  the  season  to  Your  Ex- 
cellency! "  shouted  Radisson  across  the  snow. 

"  The  same  to  the  representative  of  France," 
returned  Governor  Brigdar,  trying  to  get  away 
before  questions  could  be  asked. 

''  I  don't  see  your  ship,"  called  Radisson. 

"  Four  leagues  down  the  river,"  explained 
the  governor. 

"  Under  the  river,"  retorted  Radisson,  affect- 
ing not  to  hear. 

"  No — down  the  river,"  and  the  governor 
whisked  round  a  bluff  out  of  call. 

The  gray  night  shadows  gathered  against  the 
woods.  Stars  seeded  the  sky  overhead  till  the 
whole  heavens  were  aglow.  And  the  northern 
lights  shot  their  arrowy  jets  of  fire  above  the 
pole,  rippled  in  billows  of  flame,  scintillated  with 
the  faint  rustling  of  a  flag  in  a  gale,  or  swung 
midway  between  heaven  and  earth  Hke  censers 

198 


BATTLE  NOT  TO  THE  STRONG 

to  the  invisible  God  of  that  cold,  far,  northern 
world. 

Then  the  bastions  of  Ben  Gillam's  fort 
loomed  above  the  wastes  like  the  peak  of  a  ship 
at  sea,  and  ]M.  Radisson  issued  his  last  com- 
mands. Godefroy  and  I  were  to  approach  the 
main  gate.  M.  Radisson  and  his  five  men  would 
make  a  detour  to  attack  from  the  rear. 

A  black  flag  waved  above  the  ship  to  signal 
those  inland  pirates  whom  Ben  Gillam  was  ever 
cursing,  and  the  main  gates  stood  wide  ajar. 
Half  a  mile  away  Godefroy  hallooed  aloud.  A 
dozen  New  Englanders,  led  by  the  lieutenant, 
ran  to  meet  us. 

"Where  is  Master  Ben?"  demanded  the 
leader. 

**  Le  capitaine,"  answered  Godefroy,  affect- 
ing broken  EngHsh,  ''  le  capitaine,  he  is  fatigue. 
He  is  back — voila — how  you  for  speak  it? — avec, 
monsieur!  Le  capitaine,  he  has  need,  he  has 
want  for  you  to  go  with  food." 

At  that,  with  a  deal  of  unguarded  gabbling, 
they  must  hail  us  inside  for  refreshments,  while 
half  a  dozen  men  ran  in  the  direction  Godefroy 
pointed  with  the  food  for  their  master.  No 
sooner  were  their  backs  turned  than  Godefroy 
whispers  instructions  to  the  marquis  and  his  man, 
who  had  been  left  as  hostages.     Foret  strolled 

199 


HERALDS   OF   EMPIRE 

casually  across  to  the  guard-room,  where  the 
powder  was  stored.  Here  he  posted  himself  in 
the  doorway  with  his  sword  jammed  above  the 
hinge.  His  man  made  a  precipitate  rush  to  heap 
fires  for  our  refreshment,  dropping  three  logs 
across  the  fort  gates  and  two  more  athwart  the 
door  of  the  house.  Godefroy  and  I,  on  pretext 
of  scanning  out  the  returning  travellers,  ran  one 
to  the  nigh  bastion,  the  other  to  the  fore-deck  of 
the  ship,  where  was  a  swivel  cannon  that  might 
have  done  damage. 

Then  Godefroy  whistled. 

Like  wolves  out  of  the  earth  rose  M.  Radis- 
son  and  his  five  men  from  the  shore  near  the 
gates.  They  were  in  possession  before  the  lieu- 
tenant and  his  men  had  returned.  On  the  in- 
stant when  the  surprised  New  Englanders  ran 
up,  Radisson  bolted  the  gates. 

'^  Where  is  my  master?  "  thundered  the  lieu- 
tenant, beating  for  admission. 

"  Come  in."  M.  Radisson  cautiously  opened 
the  gate,  admitting  the  lieutenant  alone. 

''  It  is  not  a  question  of  where  your  master  is, 
but  of  mustering  your  men  and  calling  the  roll," 
said  the  Frenchman  to  the  astounded  lieutenant. 
*'  You  see  that  my  people  are  in  control  of  your 
powder-house,  your  cannon,  and  your  ship. 
Your  master  is  a  prisoner  in  my  fort.    Now  sum- 

200 


BATTLE  NOT  TO  THE  STRONG 

mon  your  men,  and  be  glad  Ben  Gillam  is  not 
here  to  kill  more  of  you  as  he  killed  your  super- 
cargo! " 

Half  an  hour  from  the  time  we  had  entered 
the  fort,  keys,  arms,  and  ammunition  were  in 
M.  de  Radisson's  hands  without  the  firing  of  a 
shot,  and  the  unarmed  New  Englanders  assigned 
to  the  main  building,  where  we  could  lock  them 
if  they  mutinied.  To  sound  of  trumpet  and 
drum,  with  Godefroy  bobbing  his  tipstaff,  M. 
Radisson  must  needs  run  up  the  French  flag  in 
place  of  the  pirate  ensign.  Then,  with  the  lieu- 
tenant and  two  New  Englanders  to  witness  ca- 
pitulation, he  marched  from  the  gates  to  do  the 
same  wdth  the  ship.  AUemand  and  Godefroy 
kept  sentinel  duty  at  the  gates.  La  Chesnaye, 
Foret,  and  Jack  Battle  held  the  bastions,  and  the 
rest  stood  guard  in  front  of  the  main  building. 

From  my  place  I  saw  how  it  happened. 

The  lieutenant  stepped  back  to  let  M.  de  Ra- 
disson pass  up  the  ship's  ladder  first.  The  New 
Englanders  followed,  the  lieutenant  still  waiting 
at  the  bottom  step;  and  when  M.  Radisson's 
back  was  turned  the  lieutenant  darted  down  the 
river  bank  in  the  direction  of  Governor  Brigdar's 
fort. 

The  flag  went  up  and  M.  Radisson  looked 
back  to  witness  the  salute.    Then  he  discovered 

201 


HERALDS   OF   EMPIRE 

the  lieutenant's  flight.  The  New  Englanders* 
purpose  was  easily  guessed — to  lock  forces  with 
Governor  Brigdar,  and  while  our  strength  was 
divided  attack  us  here  or  at  the  Habitation. 

"  One  fight  at  a  time,"  says  Radisson,  sum- 
moning to  council  in  the  powder-house  all  hands 
but  our  guard  at  the  gate.  ''  You,  Allemand 
and  Godefroy,  will  cross  the  marsh  to-night,  bid- 
ding Chouart  be  ready  for  attack  and  send  back 
re-enforcements  here!  You  two  lads" — point- 
ing to  the  stowaway  and  scullion — **  will  boil 
down  bears'  grease  and  porpoise  fat  for  a  half  a 
hundred  cressets!  Cut  up  all  the  brooms  in  the 
fort!  Use  pine-boughs!  Split  the  green  wood 
and  slip  in  oiled  rags!  Have  a  hundred  lights 
ready  by  ten  of  the  clock!  Go — make  haste,  or 
I  throw  you  both  into  the  pot! 

"  You,  Foret  and  La  Chesnaye,  transfer  all 
the  New  Englanders  to  the  hold  of  the  ship 
and  batten  them  under!  If  there's  to  be  fight- 
ing, let  the  enemies  be  outside  the  walls.  And 
you,  Ramsay,  will  keep  guard  at  the  river  bastion 
all  night!  And  you.  Jack  Battle,  will  gather  all 
the  hats  and  helmets  and  caps  in  the  fort,  and 
divide  them  equally  between  the  two  front  bas- 
tions  " 

"  Hats  and  helmets?  "  interrupts  La  Ches- 
naye. 

202 


BATTLE  NOT  TO  THE  STRONG 

*''  La  Chesnaye,"  says  M.  Radisson,  whirling, 
*'  an  any  one  would  question  me  this  night  he 
had  best  pull  his  tongue  out  with  the  tongs! 
Go,  all  of  you!  " 

But  Godefroy,  ever  a  dour-headed  knave, 
must  test  the  steel  of  M.  de  Radisson's  mood. 

"  D'ye  mean  me  an'  the  pilot  to  risk  crossing 
the  marsh  by  night " 

But  he  got  no  farther.  -M.  de  Radisson 
was  upon  him  with  a  cudgel  like  a  fiail  on 
wheat. 

'*  An  you  think  it  risk  to  go,  I'll  make  it 
greater  risk  to  stay!  An  you  fear  to  obey,  I'll 
make  you  fear  more  to  disobey!  An  you  shirk 
the  pain  of  toeing  the  scratch,  I'll  make  it  a  deal 
more  painful  to  lag  behind!  " 

"  But  at  night — at  night,"  roared  Godefroy 
between  blows. 

'*  The  night — knave,"  hissed  out  Radisson, 
"  the  night  is  lighter  than  morning  w'ith  the 
north  light.  The  night  " — this  with  a  last  drive 
— "the  night  is  same  as  day  to  man  of  spirit! 
'Tis  the  sort  of  encouragement  half  the  world 
needs  to  succeed,"  said  ■M.  Radisson,  throwing 
down  the  cudgel. 

And  Godefroy,  the  skulker,  was  glad  to  run 
for  the  marsh.    The  rest  of  us  waited  no  urgings, 
but  were  to  our  posts  on  the  run. 
14  203 


HERALDS    OF   EMPIRE 

I  saw  M.  Radisson  passing  fife,  piccolo, 
trumpet,  and  drum  to  the  two  tatterdemalion 
lads  of  our  army. 

''  Now  blow  like  fiends  when  I  give  the 
word,"  said  he. 

Across  the  courtyard,  single  file,  marched 
the  New  Englanders  from  barracks  to  boat.  La 
Chesnaye  leading  with  drawn  sword,  the  mar- 
quis following  with  pointed  musket. 

Foret  and  La  Chesnaye  then  mounted  guard 
at  the  gate.  The  sailor  of  our  company  was 
heaping  cannon-balls  ready  for  use.  Jack  Battle 
scoured  the  fort  for  odd  headgear.  M.  de  Ra- 
disson was  everywhere,  seizing  papers,  burying 
ammunition,  making  fast  loose  stockades,  put- 
ting extra  rivets  in  hinges,  and  issuing  quick  or- 
ders that  sent  Jack  Battle  skipping  to  the  word. 
Then  Jack  was  set  to  planting  double  rows  of 
sticks  inside  on  a  level  with  the  wall.  The  pur- 
pose of  these  I  could  not  guess  till  M.  Radisson 
ordered  hat,  helmet,  or  cap  clapped  atop  of  each 
pole. 

Oh,  we  were  a  formidable  army,  I  warrant 
you,  seen  by  any  one  mounting  the  drift  to  spy 
across  our  walls! 

But  'twas  no  burlesque  that  night,  as  you 
may  know  when  I  tell  you  that  Governor  Brig- 
dar's  forces  played  us  such  a  trick  they  were 

204 


BATTLE  NOT  TO  THE  STRONG 

under  shelter  of  the  ship  before  we  had  discov- 
ered them. 

Foret  and  La  Chesnaye  were  watching  from 
loopholes  at  the  gates,  and  I  was  all  alert  from 
my  place  in  the  bastion.  The  northern  lights 
waved  overhead  in  a  restless  ocean  of  rose-tinted 
fire.  Against  the  blue,  stars  were  aglint  with 
the  twinkle  of  a  million  harbour  lights.  Below, 
lay  the  frost  mist,  white  as  foam,  diaphanous  as 
a  veil,  every  floating  icy  particle  aglimmer  wdth 
star  rays  like  spray  in  sunlight.  Through  the 
night  air  came  the  far  bowlings  of  the  running 
wolf-pack.  The  little  ermine,  darting  across  the 
level  with  its  black  tail-tip  marking  the  snow  in 
dots  and  dashes,  would  sit  up  quickly,  listen  and 
dive  under,  to  wTiggle  forward  like  a  snake;  or 
the  black-eyed  hare  would  scurry  off  to  cover  of 
brushwood. 

Of  a  sudden  sounded  such  a  yelling  from  the 
New  Englanders  imprisoned  in  the  ship,  with  a 
beating  of  guns  on  the  keel,  that  I  gave  quick 
alarm.  Foret  and  La  Chesnaye  sallied  from  the 
gate.  Pistol-shots  rang  out  as  they  rounded  the 
ship's  prow  into  shadow.  At  the  same  instant, 
a  man  flung  forward  out  of  the  frost  cloud 
beating  for  admittance.  M.  de  Radisson 
opened. 

'*  The  Indians!     The  Indians!     Where  are 

205 


HERALDS   OF    EMPIRE 

the  New  Englanders?  "  cried  the  man,  pitching 
headlong  in. 

And  when  he  regained  his  feet,  Governor 
Brigdar,  of  the  Hudson's  Bay  Company,  stood 
face  to  face  with  M.  de  Radisson. 

'*  A  right  warm  welcome,  Your  Excellency," 
bowed  M.  de  Radisson,  bolting  the  gate.  ''  The 
New  Englanders  are  in  safe  keeping,  sir,  and  so 
are  you!  " 

The  bewildered  governor  gasped  at  M.  Ra- 
disson's  words.  Then  he  lost  all  command  of 
himself. 

''  Radisson,  man,"  he  stormed,  "  this  is  no 
feint — this  is  no  time  for  acting!  Six  o'  my  men 
shot  on  the  way — four  hiding  by  the  ship  and 
the  Indians  not  a  hundred  yards  behind!  Take 
my  sword  and  pistol,"  he  proffered,  M.  de  Radis- 
son still  hesitating,  "  but  as  you  hope  for  eternal 
mercy,  call  in  my  four  men!  " 

After  that,  all  was  confusion. 

Foret  and  the  marquis  rushed  pell-mell  for 
the  fort  with  four  terrified  Enghshmen  disarmed. 
The  gates  were  clapped  to.  Myriad  figures 
darted  from  the  frost  mist — figures  with  war- 
paint on  their  faces  and  bodies  clothed  in  white 
to  disguise  approach.  English  and  French,  ene- 
mies all,  crouched  to  the  palisades  against  the 

206 


BATTLE  NOT  TO  THE  STRONG 

common  foe,  with  sword-thrust  for  the  hands 
catching  at  pickets  to  scale  the  wall  and  volley- 
ing shots  that  scattered  assailants  back.  The 
redskins  were  now  plainly  visible  through  the 
frost.  When  they  swerved  away  from  shelter  of 
the  ship,  every  bastion  let  go  the  roar  of  a  can- 
non discharge.  There  was  the  sudden  silence  of 
a  drawing  off,  then  the  shrill  ''Ah — o-o-o-oh! 
Ah — o-o-o-oh!  Ah — o-o-o-oh!"  of  Indian  war- 
cry! 

And  M.  Radisson  gave  the  signal. 

Instantaneously  half  a  hundred  lights  were 
aflare.  Red  tongues  of  fire  darted  from  the  loop- 
holes. Two  lads  were  obeying  our  leader's  call 
to  run — run — run,  blowing  fife,  beating  drum 
like  an  army's  band,  while  streams  of  boiling 
grease  poured  down  from  bastions  and  lookout. 
Helmets,  hats,  and  caps  sticking  round  on  the 
poles  wcvQ  Hghted  up  like  the  heads  of  a  battal- 
ion; and  oft  as  any  of  us  showed  himself  he 
displayed  fresh  cap.  One  Indian,  I  mind,  got 
a  stockade  off  and  an  arm  inside  the  wall.  That 
arm  was  never  withdrawn,  for  M.  Radisson's 
broadsword  came  down,  and  the  Indian  reeled 
back  with  a  yelping  scream.  Then  the  smoke 
cleared,  and  I  saw  what  will  stay  with  me  as  long 
as  memory  lasts — M.  Radisson,  target  for  ar- 
rows or  shot,  long  hair  flying  and  red  doublet 

207 


HERALDS   OF   EMPIRE 

alight  in  the  flare  of  the  torches,  was  standing 
on  top  of  the  pickets  with  his  right  arm  wa- 
ving a  sword. 

*'  Whom  do  you  make  them  out  to  be,  Ram- 
say? "  he  called.    "  Is  not  yon  Le  Borgne?  " 

I  looked  to  the  Indians.  Le  Borgne  it  was, 
thin  and  straight,  like  a  mast-pole  through  mist, 
in  conference  with  another  man — a  man  with  a 
beard,  a  man  who  was  no  Indian. 

"  Sir!  "  I  shouted  back.  "  Those  are  the  in- 
land pirates.  They  are  leading  the  Indians 
against  Ben  Gillam,  and  not  against  us  at 
all." 

At  that  M.  Radisson  extends  a  handker- 
chief on  the  end  of  his  sword  as  flag  of  truce, 
and  the  bearded  man  waves  back.  Down  from 
the  wall  jumps  M.  Radisson,  running  forward 
fearlessly  where  Indians  lay  wounded,  and  wa- 
ving for  the  enemy  to  come.  But  the  two  only 
waved  back  in  friendly  fashion,  wheeled  their 
forces  ofif,  and  disappeared  through  the  frost. 

''  Those  were  Ben  Gillam's  cut-throats  trying 
to  do  for  him!  When  they  saw  us  on  the  walls, 
they  knew  their  mistake,"  says  M.  de  Radisson 
as  he  re-entered  the  gate.  "  There's  only  one 
way  to  find  those  pirates  out,  Ramsay.  Nurse 
these  wounded  Indians  back  to  life,  visit  the 
tribe,  and  watch!     After  Chouart's  re-enforce- 

208 


BATTLE  NOT  TO  THE  STRONG 

ments  come,  I'll  send  you  and  Jack  Battle,  with 
Godefroy  for  interpreter!  " 

To  Governor  Brigdar  and  his  four  refugees 
M.  de  Radisson  was  all  courtesy. 

"  And  how  comes  Your  Excellency  to  be  out 
so  late  with  ten  men?  "  he  asked,  as  we  supped 
that  night. 

"  We  heard  that  you  were  here.  We  were 
coming  to  visit  you,"  stammered  Governor 
Brigdar,  growing  red. 

"  Then  let  us  make  you  so  welcome  that  you 
will  not  hasten  away!  Here,  Jack  Battle,  here, 
fellow,  stack  these  gentlemen's  swords  and  pis- 
tols where  they'll  come  to  no  harm!  Ah!  No? 
But  I  must  relieve  you,  gentlemen!  Your  com- 
ing was  a  miracle.  I  thank  you  for  it.  It  has 
saved  us  much  trouble.  A  pledge  to  the  pleas- 
ure— and  the  length — of  your  stay,  gentle- 
men," and  they  stand  to  the  toast,  M.  de  Radis- 
son smiling  at  the  lights  in  his  wine. 

But  we  all  knew  very  well  what  such  welcome 
meant.  Twas  Radisson's  humour  to  play  the 
host  that  night,  but  the  runaway  lieutenant  was 
a  prisoner  in  our  guard-house. 


209 


CHAPTER    XVI 

WE    SEEK   THE    INLANDERS 

In  the  matter  of  fighting,  I  find  small  differ- 
ence between  white-men  and  red.  Let  the  lust 
of  conquest  but  burn,  the  justice  of  the  quarrel 
receives  small  thought.  Your  fire-eating  proph- 
et cares  little  for  the  right  of  the  cause,  pro- 
vided the  fighter  come  out  conqueror;  and 
many  a  poet  praises  only  that  right  which  is 
might  over-trampling  weakness.  I  have  heard 
the  withered  hag  of  an  Indian  camp  chant  as 
spirited  war-song  as  your  minstrels  of  butchery; 
but  the  strange  thing  of  it  is,  that  the  people, 
who  have  taken  the  sword  in  a  wantonness  of 
conquest,  are  the  races  that  have  been  swept 
from  the  face  of  the  earth  like  dead  leaves  before 
the  winter  blast;  but  the  people,  who  have  held 
immutably  by  the  power  of  right,  which  our 
Lord  Christ  set  up,  the  meek  and  the  peace- 
makers and  the  children  of  God,  these  are  they 
that  inherit  the  earth. 

Where  are  the  tribes  with  whom  Godefroy 
and  Jack  Battle  and  I  wandered  in  nomadic  life 

2IO 


WE   SEEK   THE   INLANDERS 

over  the  northern  wastes?  Buried  in  oblivion 
black  as  night,  but  for  the  lurid  memories 
flashed  down  to  you  of  later  generations. 
Where  are  the  Puritan  folk,  with  their  cast-iron, 
narrow  creeds  damning  all  creation  but  them- 
selves, with  their  foibles  of  snivelling  to  attest 
sanctity,  with  such  a  wolfish  zeal  to  hound  down 
devils  that  they  hounded  innocents  for  witch- 
craft? Spreading  over  the  face  of  the  New 
World,  making  the  desert  to  bloom  and  the 
waste  places  fruitful  gardens?  And  the  reason 
for  it  all  is  simply  this:  Your  butchering  Indian, 
like  your  swashing  cavalier,  founded  his  right 
upon  7nigJit;  your  Puritan,  grim  but  faithful,  to 
the  outermost  bounds  of  his  tragic  errors,  found- 
ed his  might  upon  right. 

We  learn  our  hardest  lessons  from  unlikeli- 
est  masters.  This  one  came  to  me  from  the  In- 
dians of  the  blood-dyed  northern  snows. 

"  Don't  show  your  faces  till  you  have  some- 
thing to  report  about  those  pirates,  who  led  the 
Indians,"  was  M.  Radisson's  last  command,  as 
we  sallied  from  the  New  Englanders'  fort  with  a 
firing  of  cannon  and  beating  of  drums. 

Godefroy,  the  trader,  muttered  under  his 
breath  that  M.  Radisson  need  never  fear  eternal 
torment. 

211 


HERALDS   OF    EMPIRE 

"Why?"  I  asked. 

"  Because,  if  he  goes  there,''  answered  Gode- 
froy,  ''  he'll  get  the  better  o'  the  Nick." 

I  think  the  fellow  was  smarting  from  recent 
punishment.  He  and  Allemand,  the  drunken 
pilot,  had  been  draining  gin  kegs  on  the  sly  and 
replacing  what  they  took  with  snow  water. 
That  last  morning  at  prayers  Godefroy,  w^ho  was 
half-seas  over,  must  yelp  out  a  loud  "  Amen  " 
in  the  wrong  place.  Without  rising  from  his 
knees,  or  as  much  as  changing  his  tone,  M.  de 
Radisson  brought  the  drunken  knave  such  a 
cuff  it  flattened  him  to  the  floor. 

Then  prayers  went  on  as  before. 

The  Indians,  whom  we  had  nursed  of  their 
wounds,  were  to  lead  us  to  the  tribe,  one  only 
being  held  by  M.  Radisson  as  hostage  for  safe 
conduct.  In  my  mind,  that  trust  to  the  Indians* 
honour  was  the  single  mistake  M.  Radisson 
made  in  the  winter's  campaign.  In  the  first 
place,  the  Indian  has  no  honour.  Why  should 
he  have,  when  his  only  standard  of  right  is  con- 
quest? In  the  second  place,  kindness  is  re- 
garded as  weakness  by  the  Indian.  Why  should 
it  not  be,  when  his  only  god  is  victory?  In  the 
third  place,  the  lust  of  blood,  to  kill,  to  butcher, 
to  mutilate,  still  surged  as  hot  in  their  veins  as 
on  the  night  when  they  had  attempted  to  scale 

212 


WE   SEEK   THE   INLANDERS 

our  walls.  And  again  I  ask  why  not,  when  the 
law  of  their  life  was  to  kill  or  to  be  killed? 
These  questions  I  put  to  you  because  life  put 
them  to  me.  At  the  time  my  father  died,  the 
gentlemen  of  King  Charles's  court  were  already 
affecting  that  refinement  of  philosophy  which 
justifies  despotism.  From  justifying  despotism, 
'twas  but  a  step  to  justifying  the  wicked  acts  of 
tyranny;  and  from  that,  but  another  step  to 
thrusting  God's  laws  aside  as  too  obsolete  for 
our  clever  courtiers.  ''  Give  your  unbroken  colt 
tether  enough  to  pull  itself  up  with  one  sharp 
fall,"  M.  Radisson  used  to  say,  "and  it  will 
never  run  to  the  end  of  its  line  again." 

The  mind  of  Europe  spun  the  tissue  of  fool- 
ish philosophy.  The  savage  of  the  wilderness 
went  the  full  tether;  and  I  leave  you  to  judge 
whether  the  might  that  is  right  or  the  right  that 
is  inigJit  be  the  better  creed  for  a  people. 

But  I  do  not  mean  to  imply  that  M.  Radis- 
son did  not  understand  the  savages  better  than 
any  man  of  us  in  the  fort.  He  risked  three  men 
as  pawns  in  the  game  he  was  playing  for  mastery 
of  the  fur  trade.  Gamester  of  the  wilderness  as 
he  was,  Pierre  Radisson  was  not  the  man  to 
court  a  certain  loss. 

The  Indians  led  us  to  the  lodges  of  the  hos- 
tiles  safely  enough;  and  their  return  gave  us  en- 

213 


HERALDS   OF   EMPIRE 

trance  if  not  welcome  to  the  tepee  village.  We 
had  entered  a  ravine  and  came  on  a  cluster  of 
wigwams  to  the  lee  side  of  a  bluff.  Dusk  hid 
our  approach;  and  the  absence  of  the  dogs  that 
usually  infest  Indian  camps  told  us  that  these 
fellows  were  marauders.  Smoke  curled  up 
from  the  poles  crisscrossed  at  the  tepee  forks, 
but  we  could  descry  no  figures  against  the  tent- 
walls  as  in  summer,  for  heavy  skins  of  the  chase 
overlaid  the  parchment.  All  was  silence  but  in 
one  wigwam.  This  was  an  enormous  structure, 
built  on  poles  long  as  a  mast,  with  moose-hides 
scattered  so  thickly  upon  it  that  not  a  glint  of 
firelight  came  through  except  the  red  glow  of 
smoke  at  the  peak.  There  was  a  low  hum  of 
suppressed  voices,  then  one  voice  alone  in  sol- 
emn tones,  then  guttural  grunts  of  applause. 

"  In  council,"  whispered  Godefroy,  steering 
straight  for  the  bearskin  that  hung  flapping 
across  the  entrance. 

Bidding  Jack  Battle  stand  guard  outside,  we 
followed  the  Indians  who  had  led  us  from  the 
fort.  Lifting  the  tent-flap,  we  found  ourselves 
inside.  A  withered  creature  with  snaky,  tangled 
hair,  toothless  gums,  eyes  that  burned  like  em- 
bers, and  a  haunched,  shrivelled  figure,  stood 
gesticulating  and  crooning  over  a  low  monotone 
in  the  centre  of  the  lodge. 

214 


WE   SEEK   THE    INLANDERS 

As  we  entered,  the  draught  from  the  door 
sent  a  tongue  of  fiame  darting  to  mid-air  from 
the  central  fire,  and  scores  of  tawny  faces  with 
glance  intent  on  the  speaker  were  etched  against 
the  dark.  These  were  no  camp  families,  but 
braves,  deep  in  war  council.  The  elder  men  sat 
with  crossed  feet  to  the  fore  of  the  circle.  The 
young  braves  were  behind,  kneeUng,  standing, 
and  stretched  full  length.  All  were  smoking 
their  long-stemmed  pipes  and  listening  to  the 
medicine-man,  or  seer,  who  was  crooning  his 
low-toned  chant.  The  air  was  black  with 
smoke. 

Always  audacious,  Godefroy,  the  trader,  ad- 
vanced boldly  and  sat  down  in  the  circle.  I  kept 
back  in  shadow,  for  directly  behind  the  Indian 
wizard  was  a  figure  lying  face  downward,  chin 
resting  in  hand,  which  somehow  reminded  me 
of  Le  Borgne.  The  fellow  rolled  lazily  over, 
got  to  his  knees,  and  stood  up.  Pushing  the 
wizard  aside,  this  Indian  faced  the  audience.  It 
was  Le  Borgne,  his  foxy  eye  yellow  as  flame, 
teeth  snapping,  and  a  tongue  running  at  such  a 
pace  that  we  could  scarce  make  out  a  word  of 
his  jargon. 

"  What  does  he  say,  Godefroy?  " 

"  Sit  down,"  whispered  the  trader,  "  you  are 

safe." 

215 


HERALDS    OF    EMPIRE 

This  was  what  the  Indian  was  saying  as 
Godefroy  muttered  it  over  to  me: 

"  Were  the  Indians  fools  and  dogs  to  throw 
away  two  fish  for  the  sake  of  one?  The  French 
were  friends  of  the  Indians.  Let  the  Indians 
find  out  what  the  French  would  give  them 
for  killing  the  English.  He,  Le  Borgne,  the 
one-eyed,  was  brave.  He  would  go  to  the 
Frenchman's  fort  and  spy  out  how  strong  they 
were.  If  the  French  gave  them  muskets  for 
killing  the  English,  after  the  ships  left  in  the 
spring  the  Indians  could  attack  the  fort  and  kill 
the  French.  The  great  medicine-man,  the  white 
hunter,  who  lived  under  the  earth,  would  supply 
them  with  muskets " 

"  He  says  the  white  hunter  who  lives  under 
the  earth  is  giving  them  muskets  to  make  war," 
whispered  Godefroy.  "  That  must  be  the  pi- 
rate." 

"Listen!" 

"  Let  the  braves  prepare  to  meet  the  In- 
dians of  the  Land  of  Little  White  Sticks,  who 
were  coming  with  furs  for  the  white  men — " 
Le  Borgne  went  on. 

"  Let  the  braves  send  their  runners  over 
the  hills  to  the  Little  White  Sticks  sleeping  in 
the  sheltered  valley.  Let  the  braves  creep 
through  the  mist  of  the  morning  like  the  lynx 

216 


WE   SEEK   THE    INLANDERS 

seeking  the  ermine.  And  when  the  Little  White 
Sticks  were  all  asleep,  the  runners  would  shoot 
fire  arrows  into  the  air  and  the  braves  would 
slay — slay — slay  the  men,  who  might  fight,  the 
women,  who  might  run  to  the  whites  for  aid, 
and  the  children,  who  might  live  to  tell  tales." 

''The  devils!"  says  Godefroy  under  his 
breath. 

A  log  broke  on  the  coals  with  a  flare  that 
painted  Le  Borgne's  evil  face  fiery  red;  and  the 
fellow  gabbled  on,  with  figure  crouching  stealth- 
ily forward,  foxy  eye  alight  with  evil,  and  teeth 
glistening. 

"  Let  the  braves  seize  the  furs  of  the  Little 
White  Sticks,  trade  the  furs  to  the  white-man 
for  muskets,  massacre  the  English,  then  when 
the  great  white  chief's  big  canoes  left,  kill  the 
Frenchmen  of  the  fort." 

"  Ha,"  says  Godefroy.  "  Jack's  safe  outside! 
We'll  have  a  care  to  serve  you  through  the  loop- 
holes, and  trade  you  only  broken  muskets!  " 

A  guttural  grunt  applauded  Le  Borgne's 
advice,  and  the  crafty  scoundrel  continued: 

"  The  great  medicine-man,  the  white  hunter, 
who  lived  under  the  earth,  was  their  friend. 
Was  he  not  here  among  them?  Let  the  braves 
hear  what  he  advised.'* 

The     Indians    grunted    their    approbation. 

217 


HERALDS   OF   EMPIRE 

Some  one  stirred  the  fire  to  flame.  There 
was  a  shuffling  movement  among  the  figures  in 
the  dark.  Involuntarily  Godefroy  and  I  had 
risen  to  our  feet.  Emerging  from  the  dusk  to 
the  firelight  was  a  white  man,  gaudily  clothed  in 
tunic  of  scarlet  with  steel  breastplates  and  gold 
lace  enough  for  an  ambassador.  His  face  was 
hidden  by  Le  Borgne's  form.  Godefroy 
pushed  too  far  forward;  for  the  next  thing,  a 
shout  of  rage  rent  the  tent  roof.  Le  Borgne 
was  stamping  out  the  fire.  A  red  form  with 
averted  face  raced  round  the  lodge  wall  to  gain 
the  door.  Then  Godefroy  and  I  were  standing 
weapons  in  hand,  with  the  band  of  infuriated 
braves  brandishing  tomahawks  about  our  heads. 
Le  Borgne  broke  through  the  circle  and  con- 
fronted us  with  his  face  agleam. 

"  Le  Borgne,  you  rascal,  is  this  a  way  to 
treat  your  friends?  "  I  demanded. 

"  What  you — come  for?  "  slowly  snarled  Le 
Borgne  through  set  teeth. 

"  To  bring  back  your  wounded  and  for  furs, 
you  fool,"  cried  Godefroy,  "  and  if  you  don't 
call  your  braves  off,  you  can  sell  no  more  pelts 
to  the  French." 

Le  Borgne  gabbled  out  something  that 
drove  the  braves  back. 

"  We  have  no  furs  yet,"  said  he. 

218 


WE   SEEK   THE    INLANDERS 

"  But  you  will  have  them  when  you  raid  the 
Little  White  Sticks,"  raged  Godefroy,  caring 
nothing  for  the  harm  his  words  might  work  if 
he  saved  his  own  scalp. 

Le  Borgne  drew  off  to  confer  with  the 
braves.  Then  he  came  back  and  there  was  a 
treacherous  smile  of  welcome  on  his  bronze 
face. 

"The  Indians  thought  the  white-men  spies 
from  the  Little  White  Sticks,"  he  explained  in 
the  mellow,  rhythmic  tones  of  the  redman. 
"  The  Indians  were  in  war  council.  The  In- 
dians are  friends  of  the  French." 

''  Look  out  for  him,  Godefroy,"  said  I. 

"  If  the  French  are  friends  to  the  Indians,  let 
the  white-men  come  to  battle  against  the  Little 
White  Sticks,"  added  Le  Borgne. 

"Tell  him  no!  We'll  wait  here  till  they 
come  back!  " 

"  He  says  they  are  not  coming  back,"  an- 
swered Godefroy,  "  and  hang  me,  Ramsay,  an 
I'd  not  face  an  Indian  massacre  before  I  go  back 
empty-handed  to  M.  Radisson.  We're  in  for  it," 
says  he,  speaking  English  too  quick  for  Le 
Borgne's  ear.  "  If  we  show  the  white  feather 
now,  they'll  finish  us.  They'll  not  harm  us  till 
they've  done  for  the  English  and  got  more  mus- 
kets. And  that  red  pirate  is  after  these  same 
15  219 


HERALDS    OF   EMPIRE 

furs!  Body  o'  me,  an  you  hang  back,  scared  o' 
battle,  you'd  best  not  come  to  the  wilderness." 

"  The  white-men  will  go  with  the  Indians, 
but  the  white-men  will  not  fight  with  the  Little 
Sticks,"  announced  Godefroy  to  Le  Borgne, 
proffering  tobacco  enough  to  pacify  the  tribe. 

'Twas  in  vain  that  I  expostulated  against  the 
risk  of  going  far  inland  with  hostiles,  who  had 
attacked  the  New  England  fort  and  were  even 
now  planning  the  slaughter  of  white-men.  In- 
offensiveness  is  the  most  deadly  of  offences 
with  savagery,  whether  the  savagery  be  of  white 
men  or  red.  Le  Borgne  had  the  insolence  to 
ask  why  the  tribe  could  not  as  easily  kill  us 
where  we  were  as  farther  inland;  and  we  saw 
that  remonstrances  were  working  the  evil  that 
we  wished  to  avoid — increasing  the  Indians' 
daring.  After  all,  Godefroy  was  right.  The 
man  who  fears  death  should  neither  go  to  the 
wilderness  nor  launch  his  canoe  above  a  whirl- 
pool unless  he  is  prepared  to  run  the  rapids. 
This  New  World  had  never  been  won  from 
darkness  if  men  had  hung  back  from  fear  of  spilt 
blood. 

'Twas  but  a  moment's  work  for  the  braves 
to  deck  out  in  war-gear.  Faces  were  blackened 
with  red  streaks  typifying  wounds;  bodies  clad 
in  caribou  skins  or  ermine-pelts  white  as  the 

220 


WE   SEEK   THE    INLANDERS 

snow  to  be  crossed;  quivers  of  barbed  and  poi- 
sonous arrows  hanging  over  their  backs  in  otter 
and  beaver  skins;  powder  in  buffalo-horns  for 
those  who  had  muskets;  shields  of  toughened 
hide  on  one  arm,  and  such  a  number  of  scalp- 
locks  fringing  every  seam  as  told  their  own 
story  of  murderous  foray.  While  the  land  still 
smoked  under  morning  frost  and  the  stars  yet 
pricked  through  the  gray  darkness,  the  war- 
riors were  far  afield  coasting  the  snow-billows 
as  on  tireless  wings.  Up  the  swelling  drifts 
water-waved  by  wind  like  a  rolling  sea,  down 
clififs  crumbling  over  with  snowy  cornices,  across 
the  icy  marshes  swept  glare  by  the  gales,  the 
braves  pressed  relentlessly  on.  Godefroy,  Jack 
Battle,  and  I  would  have  hung  to  the  rear  and 
slipped  away  if  we  could;  but  the  fate  of  an  old 
man  was  warning  enough.  Muttering  against 
the  braves  for  embroiling  themselves  in  war 
without  cause,  he  fell  away  from  the  marauders 
as  if  to  leave.  Le  Borgne's  foxy  eye  saw  the 
move.  Turning,  he  rushed  at  the  old  man  with 
a  hiss  of  air  through  his  teeth  like  a  whistling 
arrow.  His  musket  swung  up.  It  clubbed 
down.  There  was  a  groan;  and  as  we  rounded  a 
bluff  at  a  pace  that  brought  the  air  cutting  in 
our  faces,  I  saw  the  old  man's  body  lying  mo- 
tionless on  the  snow. 

221 


HERALDS    OF   EMPIRE 

If  this  was  the  beginning,  what  was  the  end? 

Godefroy  vowed  that  the  man  was  only  an 
Indian,  and  his  death  was  no  sin. 

"  The  wolves  would  'a'  picked  his  bones  soon 
anyway.  He  wore  a  score  o'  scalps  at  his  belt. 
Pah,  an  we  could  get  furs  without  any  Indians, 
I'd  see  all  their  skulls  go!  "  snapped  the  trader. 

''  If  killing's  no  murder,  whose  turn  comes 
next?  "  asked  Jack. 

And  that  gave  Godefroy  pause. 


222 


CHAPTER    XVII 

A   BOOTLESS    SACRIFICE 

For  what  I  now  tell  I  offer  no  excuse.  I 
would  but  record  what  savagery  meant.  Then 
may  you  who  are  descended  from  the  New 
World  pioneers  know  that  your  lineage  is  from 
men  as  heroic  as  those  crusaders  who  rescued 
our  Saviour's  grave  from  the  pagans;  for  cru- 
saders of  Old  World  and  New  carried  the 
sword  of  destruction  in  one  hand,  but  in  the 
other,  a  cross  that  was  light  in  darkness.  Then 
may  you,  my  lady-fingered  sentimentalist,  who 
go  to  bed  of  a  winter  night  with  a  warming- 
pan  and  champion  the  rights  of  the  savage 
from  your  soft  place  among  cushions,  realize 
what  a  fine  hero  your  redman  was,  and  realize, 
too,  what  were  the  powers  that  the  white-man 
crushed! 

For  what  I  do  not  tell  I  offer  no  excuse.  It 
is  not  permitted  to  relate  all  that  savage  warfare 
meant.  Once  I  marvelled  that  a  just  God  could 
order   his   chosen   people    to    exterminate   any 

223 


HERALDS    OF   EMPIRE 

race.  Now  I  marvel  that  a  just  God  hath  not 
exterminated  many  races  long  ago. 

We  reached  the  crest  of  a  swelling  upland  as 
the  first  sun-rays  came  through  the  frost  mist 
in  shafts  of  fire.  A  quick  halt  was  called.  One 
white-garbed  scout  went  crawHng  stealthily 
down  the  snow-slope  like  a  mountain-cat.  Then 
the  frost  thinned  to  the  rising  sun  and  vague 
outlines  of  tepee  lodges  could  be  descried  in  the 
clouded  valley. 

An  arrow  whistled  through  the  air  glancing 
into  snow  with  a  soft  whirr  at  our  feet.  It  was 
the  signal.  As  with  one  thought,  the  warriors 
charged  down  the  hill,  leaping  from  side  to  side 
in  a  frenzy,  dancing  in  a  madness  of  slaughter, 
shrieking  their  long,  shrill — ''Ah — oh! — Ah — 
oh!" — yelping,  howling,  screaming  their  war- 
cry—"  Ah— oh!— Ah— oh!— Ah— oh  !  "  —  Hke 
demons  incarnate.  The  medicine  -  man  had 
stripped  himself  naked  and  was  tossing  his  arms 
with  maniacal  fury,  leaping  up  and  down,  yell- 
ing the  war-cry,  beating  the  tom-tom,  rattUng 
the  death-gourd.  Some  of  the  warriors  went 
down  on  hands  and  feet,  sidling  forward  through 
the  mist  like  the  stealthy  beasts  of  prey  that  they 
wxre. 

Godefroy,  Jack  Battle,  and  I  were  carried  be- 
fore the  charge  helpless  as  leaves  in  a  hurricane. 

224 


A   BOOTLESS   SACRIFICE 

All  slid  down  the  hillside  to  the  bottom  of  a 
ravine.  With  the  long  bound  of  a  tiger- 
spring,  Le  Borgne  plunged  through  the  frost 
cloud. 

The  lodges  of  the  victims  were  about  us.  We 
had  evidently  come  upon  the  tribe  when  all  were 
asleep. 

Then  that  dark  under-world  of  which  men 
dream  in  wild  delirium  became  reality.  Pande- 
monium broke  its  bounds. 

•  •••** 

And  had  I  once  thought  that  Eli  Kirke's  fa- 
natic faith  painted  too  lurid  a  hell?  God  knows 
if  the  realm  of  darkness  be  half  as  hideous  as  the 
deeds  of  this  life,  'tis  blacker  than  prophet  may 
portray. 

Day  or  night,  after  fifty  years,  do  I  close  my 
eyes  to  shut  the  memory  out!  But  the  shafts  are 
still  hurlting  through  the  gray  gloom.  Arrows 
rip  against  the  skin  shields.  Running  fugitives 
fall  pierced.  ]Men  rush  from  their  lodges  in  the 
daze  of  sleep  and  fight  barehanded  against  mus- 
ket and  battle-axe  and  lance  till  the  snows  are 
red  and  scalps  steaming  from  the  belts  of  con- 
querors. Women  fall  to  the  feet  of  the  victors, 
kneeling,  crouching,  dumbly  pleading  for  mercy; 
and  the  mercy  is  a  spear-thrust  that  pinions  the 
living  body  to  earth.     Maimed,  helpless  and  liv- 

225 


HERALDS   OF    EMPIRE 

itig  victims  are  thrown  aside  to  await  slow  death. 
Children  are  torn  from  their  mothers'  arms — but 
there — memory  revolts  and  the  pen  fails! 

It  was  in  vain  for  us  to  flee.  Turn  w^here  we 
would,  pursued  and  pursuer  were  there. 

''  Don't  flinch  !  Don't  flinch  !  "  Godefroy 
kept  shouting.  '*  They'll  take  it  for  fear! 
They'll  kill  you  by  torture!  " 

Almost  on  the  words  a  bowstring  twanged  to 
the  fore  and  a  young  girl  stumbled  across  Jack 
Battle's  feet  with  a  scream  that  rings,  and 
rings,  and  rings  in  memory  like  the  tocsin  of  a 
horrible  dream.  She  was  wounded  in  the  shoul- 
der. Getting  to  her  knees  she  threw  her  arms 
round  Jack  with  such  a  terrified  look  of  helpless 
pleading  in  her  great  eyes  as  would  have  moved 
stone. 

"  Don't  touch  her!  Don't  touch  her!  Don't 
touch  her!  "  screamed  Godefroy,  jerking  to  pull 
Jack  free.  "  It  will  do  no  good!  Don't  help 
her!    They'll  kill  you  both " 

"Great  God!"  sobbed  Jack,  with  shivering 
horror,  "  I  can't  help  helping  her " 

But  there  leaped  from  the  mist  a  figure  with 
uplifted  spear. 

May  God  forgive  it,  but  I  struck  that  man 
dead! 

It  was  a  bootless  sacrifice  at  the  risk  of  three 

226 


A   BOOTLESS   SACRIFICE 

lives.  But  so  was  Christ's  a  bootless  sacrifice  at 
the  time,  if  you  measure  deeds  by  gain.  And  so 
has  every  sacrifice  worthy  of  the  name  been  a 
bootless  sacrifice,  if  you  stop  to  weigh  life  in  a 
goldsmith's  scale! 

Justice  is  blind;  but  praise  be  to  God,  so  is 
mercy ! 

And,  indeed,  I  have  but  quoted  our  Lord 
and  Saviour,  not  as  an  example,  but  as  a  prece- 
dent. For  the  act  I  merited  no  credit.  Like 
Jack,  I  could  not  have  helped  helping  her.  The 
act  was  out  before  the  thought. 

Then  we  were  back  to  back  fighting  a  horde 
of  demons. 

Godefroy  fought  cursing  our  souls  to  all  eter- 
nity for  embroiling  him  in  peril.  Jack  Bat- 
tle fought  mumbling  feverishly,  deliriously,  un- 
conscious of  how  he  shot  or  what  he  said — 
"  Might  as  well  die  here  as  elsewhere!  Might  as 
well  die  here  as  elsewhere!  Damn  that  Indian! 
Give  it  to  him,  Ramsay!  You  shoot  while  I 
prime!  Might  as  well  die  here  as  else- 
where  " 

And  all  fought  resolute  to  die  hard,  when, 
where,  or  how  the  dying  came! 

To  that  desperate  game  there  was  but  one 
possible  end.  It  is  only  in  story-books  writ  for 
sentimental  maids  that  the  good  who  are  weak 

227 


HERALDS   OF    EMPIRE 

defeat  the  wicked  who  are  strong.  We  shattered 
many  an  assailant  before  the  last  stake  was 
dared,  but  in  the  end  they  shattered  my  sword- 
arm,  which  left  me  helpless  as  a  hull  at  ebb-tide. 
Then  Godefroy,  the  craven  rascal,  must  throw 
up  his  arms  for  surrender,  which  gave  Le 
Borgne  opening  to  bring  down  the  butt  of  his 
gun  on  Jack's  crown. 

The  poor  sailor  went  bundhng  over  the  snow 
like  a  shot  rabbit. 

When  the  frost  smoke  cleared,  there  was 
such  a  scene  as  I  may  not  paint;  for  you  must 
know  that  your  Indian  hero  is  not  content  to 
kill.  Like  the  ghoul,  he  must  mutilate.  Of  all 
the  Indian  band  attacked  by  our  forces,  not  one 
escaped  except  the  girl,  whose  form  I  could 
descry  nowhere  on  the  stained  snow. 

Jack  Battle  presently  regained  his  senses  and 
staggered  up  to  have  his  arms  thonged  behind 
his  back.  The  thongs  on  my  arms  they  tight- 
ened with  a  stick  through  the  loop  to  extort  cry 
of  pain  as  the  sinew  cut  into  the  shattered 
wrist.  An  the  smile  had  cost  my  last  breath,  I 
would  have  defied  their  tortures  w-ith  a  laugh. 
They  got  no  cry  from  me.  Godefroy,  the  trader, 
cursed  us  in  one  breath  and  in  the  next  threat- 
ened that  the  Indians  would  keep  us  for  tor- 
ture. 

228 


A   BOOTLESS   SACRIFICE 

"  You  are  the  only  man  who  can  speak  their 
language,"  I  retorted.  ''  Stop  whimpering  and 
warn  these  brutes  what  Radisson  will  do  if  they 
harm  us!  He  will  neither  take  their  furs  nor 
give  them  muskets!  He  will  arm  their  enemies 
to  destroy  them!     Tell  them  that!  " 

But  as  wxU  talk  to  tigers.  Le  Borgne  alone 
listened,  his  foxy  glance  fastened  on  my  face 
with  a  strange,  watchful  look,  neither  hostile  nor 
friendly.  To  Godefroy's  threats  the  Indian  an- 
swered that  "  white-man  talk — not  true — of  all," 
pointing  to  Jack  Battle,  ''  him  no  friend  great 
white  chief — him  captive " 

Then  Godefroy  burst  out  with  the  unworthi- 
est  answer  that  ever  passed  man's  lips. 

*'  Of  course  he's  a  captive,"  screamed  the 
trader,  *'  then  take  him  and  torture  him  and  let 
us  go!  'Tw^as  him  stopped  the  Indian  getting 
the  girl!" 

''  Le  Borgne,"  I  cut  in  sharply,  ''  Le  Borgne, 
it  was  I  who  stopped  the  Indian  killing  the  girl! 
You  need  not  torture  the  little  white-man.  He 
is  a  good  man.  He  is  the  friend  of  the  great 
white  chief." 

But  Le  Borgne  showed  no  interest.  While 
the  others  stripped  the  dead  and  wreaked  their 
ghoulish  work,  Le  Borgne  gathered  up  the 
furs  of  the  Little  Sticks  and  with  two  or  three 

229 


HERALDS    OF   EMPIRE 

young  men  stole  away  over  the  crest  of  the 
hill. 

Then  the  hostiles  left  the  dead  and  the  half- 
dead  for  the  wolves. 

Prodded  forward  by  lance-thrusts,  we  began 
the  weary  march  back  to  the  lodges.  The  sun 
sank  on  the  snowy  wastes  red  as  a  shield  of 
blood;  and  with  the  early  dusk  of  the  northern 
night  purpling  the  shadowy  fields  in  mist  came 
a  south  wind  that  filled  the  desolate  silence  with 
restless  wailings  as  of  lament  for  eternal  wrong, 
moaning  and  sighing  and  rustling  past  Hke  in- 
visible spirits  that  find  no  peace. 

Some  of  the  Indians  laid  hands  to  thin  lips 
with  a  low  "  Hs-s-h,"  and  the  whole  band 
quickened  pace.  Before  twilight  had  deepened 
to  the  dark  that  precedes  the  silver  glow  of  the 
moon  and  stars  and  northern  lights,  we  were 
back  where  Le  Borgne  had  killed  the  old  man. 
The  very  snow  had  been  picked  clean,  and 
through  the  purple  gloom  far  back  prowled 
vague  forms. 

Jack  Battle  and  I  looked  at  each  other,  but 
the  Indian  fellow,  who  was  our  guard,  emitted  a 
harsh,  rasping  laugh.  As  for  Godefroy,  he  was 
marching  abreast  of  the  braves  gabbling  a  mum- 
ble-jumble of  pleadings  and  threats,  which,  I 
know  very  well,  ignored  poor  Jack.     Godefroy 

2.^0 


A    BOOTLESS   SACRIFICE 

would  make  a  scapegoat  of  the  weak  to  save 
his  own  neck,  and  small  good  his  cowardice  did 
him! 

The  moon  was  high  in  mid-heaven  flooding 
a  white  world  when  we  reached  the  lodges.  We 
three  were  placed  under  guards,  while  the  war- 
riors feasted  their  triumph  and  danced  the 
scalp-dance  to  drive  away  the  spirits  of  the  dead. 
To  beat  of  tom-tom  and  shriek  of  gourd-rattles, 
the  whole  terrible  scene  was  re-enacted.  Strip- 
ping himself  naked,  but  for  his  moccasins,  the  old 
wizard  pranced  up  and  down  like  a  fiend  in  the 
midst  of  the  circling  dancers.  Flaming  torches 
smoked  from  poles  in  front  of  the  lodges,  or  were 
waved  and  tossed  by  the  braves.  Flaunting 
fresh  scalps  from  lance-heads,  with  tomahawk 
in  the  other  hand,  each  warrior  went  through  all 
the  fiendish  moves  and  feints  of  attack — prowl- 
ing on  knees,  uttering  the  yelping,  wolfish  yells, 
crouching  for  the  leap,  springing  through  mid- 
air, brandishing  the  battle-axe,  stamping  upon 
the  imaginary  prostrate  foe,  stooping  with  a 
gHnt  of  the  scalping  knife,  then  up,  with  a  shout 
of  triumph  and  the  scalp  waving  from  the  lance, 
all  in  time  to  the  dull  thum — thum — thum  of  the 
tom-tom  and  the  screaming  chant  of  the  wizard. 
Still  the  south  wind  moaned  about  the  lodges; 
and  the  dancers  shouted  the  louder  to  drown 


HERALDS    OF   EMPIRE 

those  ghost-cries  of  the  dead.  Faster  and  faster 
beat  the  drum.  Swifter  and  swifter  darted  the 
braves,  hacking  their  own  flesh  in  a  frenzy  of  fear 
till  their  shrieks  out-screamed  the  wind. 

Then  the  spirits  were  deemed  appeased. 

The  mad  orgy  of  horrors  was  over,  but  the 
dancers  were  too  exhausted  for  the  torture  of 
prisoners.  The  older  men  came  to  the  lodge 
where  we  were  guarded  and  Godefroy  again  be- 
gan his  importunings. 

Setting  Jack  Battle  aside,  they  bade  the 
trader  and  me  come  out. 

"  Better  one  be  tortured  than  three,"  heart- 
lessly muttered  Godefroy  to  Jack.  ''  Now  they'll 
set  us  free  for  fear  of  M.  Radisson,  and  we'll  come 
back  for  you." 

But  Godefroy  had  miscalculated  the  effects 
of  his  threats.  At  the  door  stood  a  score  of 
warriors  who  had  not  been  to  the  massacre.  If 
\\t  hoped  to  escape  torture  the  wizard  bade  us 
follow  these  men.  They  led  us  away  with  a  sinis- 
ter silence.  When  we  reached  the  crest  of  the 
hill,  half-way  between  the  lodges  and  the  massa- 
cre, Godefroy  took  alarm.  This  was  not  the 
direction  of  our  fort.  The  trader  shouted  out 
that  M.  Radisson  would  punish  them  well  if  they 
did  us  harm.  At  that  one  of  the  taciturn  fellows 
turned.    They  would  take  care  to  do  us  no  harm, 

232 


A   BOOTLESS   SACRIFICE 

he  said,  with  an  evil  laugh.  On  the  ridge  of  the 
hill  they  paused,  as  if  seeking  a  mark.  Two 
spindly  wind-stripped  trees  stood  straight  as 
mast-poles  above  the  snow.  The  leader  went 
forward  to  examine  the  bark  for  Indian  signal, 
motioning  Godefroy  and  me  closer  as  he  exam- 
ined the  trees. 

With  the  whistle  of  a  whip-lash  through  air 
the  thongs  w^ere  about  us,  round  and  round 
ankle,  neck,  and  arms,  binding  us  fast.  Gode- 
froy shouted  out  a  blasphemous  oath  and  strug- 
gled till  the  deer  sinew  cut  his  buckskin.  I  had 
only  succeeded  in  wheeling  to  face  our  treacher- 
ous tormentors  when  the  strands  tightened.  In 
the  struggle  the  trader  had  somehow  got  his 
face  to  the  bark.  The  coils  circled  round  him. 
The  thongs  drew  close.  The  Indians  stood  back. 
They  had  done  what  they  came  to  do.  They 
would  not  harm  us,  they  taunted,  pointing  to 
the  frost-silvered  valley,  where  lay  the  dead  of 
their  morning  crime. 

Then  with  harsh  gibes,  the  warriors  ran 
dow^n  the  hillside,  leaving  us  bound. 


233 


CHAPTER    XVIII 

FACING   THE    END 

Below  the  hill  on  one  side  flickered  the 
moving  torches  of  the  hostiles.  On  the  other 
side,  where  the  cliff  fell  sheer  away,  lay  the  red- 
dyed  snows  with  misty  shapes  moving  through 
the  frosty  valley. 

A  wind  of  sighs  swept  across  the  white 
wastes.  Short,  sharp  barkings  rose  from  the 
shadowy  depth  of  the  ravine.  Then  the  silence 
of  desolation  .  .  .  then  the  moaning  night-wind 
.  .  .  then  the  shivering  cry  of  the  wolf-pack 
scouring  on  nightly  hunt. 

For  a  moment  neither  Godefroy  nor  I  spoke. 
Then  the  sinews,  cutting  deep,  wakened  con- 
sciousness. 

*'  Are  they  gone?  "  asked  Godefroy  hoarsely. 

"  Yes,"  said  I,  glancing  to  the  valley. 

"  Can't  you  break  through  the  thongs  and 
get  a  hand  free?  " 

"  My  back  is  to  the  tree.  We'll  have  to  face 
it,  Godefroy — don't  break  down,  man !  We  must 
face  it!" 

234 


FACING   THE    END 

"  Face  what?  "  he  shuddered  out.  "  Is  any- 
thing there?    Face  what?  "  he  half  screamed. 

"The  end!" 

He  strained  at  the  thongs  till  he  had  strength 
to  strain  no  more.  Then  he  broke  out  in  a  vol- 
ley of  maledictions  at  Jack  Battle  and  me  for  in- 
terfering with  the  massacre,  to  which  I  could 
answer  never  a  word;  for  the  motives  that  merit 
greatest  applause  when  they  succeed,  win  bitter- 
est curses  when  they  fail. 

The  northern  lights  swung  low.  Once  those 
lights  seemed  censers  of  flame  to  an  invisible 
God.  Now  they  shot  across  the  steel  sky  like 
fiery  serpents,  and  the  rustling  of  their  fire  was 
as  the  hiss  when  a  fang  strikes.  A  shooting  star 
blazed  into  light  against  the  blue,  then  dropped 
into  the  eternal  darkness. 

"  Godefroy,"  I  asked,  *'  how  long  wdll  this 
last?  " 

"  Till  the  wolves  come,"  said  he  huskily. 

"  A  man  must  die  some  time,"  I  called  back; 
but  my  voice  belied  the  bravery  of  the  words,  for 
something  gray  loomed  from  the  ravine  and 
stood  stealthily  motionless  in  the  dusk  behind 
the  trader.  Involuntarily  a  quick  ''Hist!" 
went  from  my  lips. 

"  What's  that  ?  "  shouted  Godefroy.  "  Is 
anything  there?  " 

i6  235 


HERALDS   OF   EMPIRE 

"  I  am  cold,"  said  I. 

And  on  top  of  that  lie  I  prayed — prayed  with 
wide-staring  eyes  on  the  thing  whose  head  had 
turned  towards  us — prayed  as  I  have  never 
prayed  before  or  since! 

'*  Are  you  sure  there's  nothing?  "  cried  the 
trader.  ''  Look  on  both  sides!  I'm  sure  I  feel 
something!  '* 

Another  crouching  form  emerged  from  the 
gloom — then  another  and  another — silent  and 
still  as  spectres.  With  a  sidling  motion  they 
prowled  nearer,  sniffing  the  air,  shifting  watchful 
look  from  Godefroy  to  me,  from  me  to  Gode- 
froy.  A  green  eye  gleamed  nearer  through  the 
mist.    Then  I  knew. 

The  wolves  had  come. 

Godefroy  screamed  out  that  he  heard  some- 
thing, and  again  bade  me  look  on  both  sides  of 
the  hill. 

*'  Keep  quiet  till  I  see,"  said  I;  but  I  never 
took  my  gaze  from  the  green  eyes  of  a  great 
brute  to  the  fore  of  the  gathering  pack. 

"But  I  feel  them  —  but  I  hear  them!" 
shouted  Godefroy,  in  an  agony  of  terror. 

What  gain  to  keep  up  pretence  longer? 
Still  holding  the  beast  back  with  no  other  power 
than  the  power  of  the  man's  eye  over  the  brute, 
I  called  out  the  truth  to  the  trader. 

236 


FACING   THE    END 

"Don't  move!  Don't  speak!  Don't  cry 
out!  Perhaps  we  can  stare  them  back  till  day- 
light comes!  " 

Godefroy  held  quiet  as  death.  Some  subtle 
power  of  the  man  over  the  brute  puzzled  the 
leader  of  the  pack.  He  shook  his  great  head 
with  angry  snarls  and  slunk  from  side  to  side  to 
evade  the  human  eye,  every  hair  of  his  fur  bris- 
tling. Then  he  threw  up  his  jaws  and  uttered  a 
long  howl,  answered  by  the  far  cry  of  the  com- 
ing pack.  Sniffing  the  ground,  he  began  cir- 
cling— closing  in — closing  in 

Then  there  was  a  shout — a  groan,  a  struggle 
— a  rip  as  of  teeth — from  Godefroy's  place! 

Then  with  naught  but  a  blazing  of  comets 
dropping  into  an  everlasting  dark,  with  naught 
but  a  ship  of  fire  billowing  away  to  the  flame  of 
the  northern  lights,  with  naught  but  the  rush  of 
a  sea,  blinding,  deafening,  bearing  me  to  the 
engulfment  of  the  eternal — I  lost  knowledge  of 
this  life! 


237 


CHAPTER    XIX 

AFTERWARD 

A  LONG  shudder,  and  I  had  awakened  in  sti- 
fling darkness.  Was  I  dreaming,  or  were  there 
voices,  English  voices,  talking  about  me? 

"  It  was  too  late!    He  will  die!  '* 

"Draw  back  the  curtain!  Give  him  plenty 
of  air!  " 

In  the  daze  of  a  misty  dream,  M.  Picot  was 
there  with  the  foils  in  his  hands;  and  Hortense 
had  cried  out  as  she  did  that  night  when  the 
button  touched  home.  A  sweet,  fresh  gust  blew 
across  my  face  with  a  faint  odour  of  the  pungent 
flames  that  used  to  flicker  under  the  crucibles 
of  the  dispensary.  How  came  I  to  be  lying  in 
Boston  Town?  Was  M.  Radisson  a  myth? 
Was  the  northland  a  dream? 

I  tried  to  rise,  but  whelming  shadows  pushed 
me  down;  and  through  the  dark  shifted  phan- 
tom faces. 

Now  it  was  M.  Radisson  quelling  mutiny, 
tossed  on  plunging  ice-drift,  scouring  before  the 

238 


AFTERWARD 

hurricane,  leaping  through  red  flame  over  the 
fort  wall,  while  wind  and  sea  crooned  a  chorus 
like  the  hum  of  soldiers  singing  and  marching  to 
battle.  "  Storm  and  cold,  man  and  beast,  pow- 
ers of  darkness  and  devil — he  must  fight  them 
all,"  sang  the  gale.  "Who?"  asked  a  voice. 
In  the  dark  was  a  lone  figure  clinging  to  the 
spars  of  a  wreck.  *'  The  victor,"  shrieked  the 
Avind.  Then  the  waves  washed  over  the  cast- 
away, leaving  naught  but  the  screaming  gale 
and  the  pounding  seas  and  the  eternal  dark. 

Or  it  was  M.  Picot,  fencing  in  mid-room. 
Of  a  sudden,  foils  turn  to  swords,  M.  Picot  to  a 
masked  man,  and  Boston  to  the  northland  for- 
est. I  fall,  and  when  I  awaken  ]\I.  Picot  is 
standing,  candle  in  hand,  tincturing  my  wounds. 

Or  the  dark  is  filled  with  a  multitude — men 
and  beasts;  and  the  beasts  wear  a  crown  of  vic- 
tory and  the  men  are  drunk  with  the  blood  of 
the  slain. 

Or  stealthy,  crouching,  wolfish  forms  steal 
through  the  frost  mist,  closer  and  closer  till 
there  comes  a  shout — a  groan — a  rip  as  of  teeth 
— then  I  am  up,  struggling  with  Le  Borgne,  the 
one-eyed,  who  pushes  me  back  to  a  couch  in  the 
dark. 

Like  the  faces  that  hover  above  battle  in  sol- 
diers' dreams  was  a  white  face  framed  in  curls 

239 


HERALDS    OF    EMPIRE 

with  lustrous  eyes  full  of  lights.  Always  when 
the  darkness  thickened  and  I  began  slipping — 
slipping  into  the  folds  of  bottomless  deeps — al- 
ways the  face  came  from  the  gloom,  like  a  star 
of  hope;  and  the  hope  drew  me  back. 

"  There  is  nothing — nothing — nothing  at  all 
to  fear,"  says  the  face. 

And  I  laugh  at  the  absurdity  of  the  dream. 

"  To  think  of  dreaming  that  Hortense  would 
be  here — would  be  in  the  northland — Hortense, 
the  little  queen,  who  never  would  let  me  tell 
her " 

''  Tell  her  what?  "  asks  the  face. 

"Hah!  What  a  question!  There  is  only 
one  thing  in  all  this  world  to  tell  her!  " 

And  I  laughed  again  till  I  thought  there 
must  be  some  elf  scrambling  among  the  rafters 
of  that  smothery  ceiling.  It  seemed  so  absurd 
to  be  thrilled  with  love  of  Hortense  with  the 
breath  of  the  wolves  yet  hot  in  one's  face! 

"The  wolves  got  Godefroy,"  I  would  rea- 
son, "  how  didn't  they  get  me?  How  did  I  get 
away?    What  was  that  smell  of  fur " 

Then  some  one  was  throwing  fur  robes  from 
the  couch.  The  phantom  Hortense  kneeled  at 
the  pillow. 

"  There    are    no    wolves — it    was    only    the 

robe,"  she  says. 

240 


AFTERWARD 

"  And  I  suppose  you  will  be  telling  me  there 
are  no  Indians  up  there  among  the  rafters?  " 

"  Give  me  the  candle.  Go  away,  Le  Borgne! 
Leave  me  alone  with  him,"  says  the  face  in  the 
gloom.  **  Look,"  says  the  shadow,  '*  I  am  Hor- 
tense! " 

A  torch  was  in  her  hand  and  the  light  fell  on 
her  face.  I  was  as  certain  that  she  knelt  beside 
me  as  I  was  that  I  lay  helpless  to  rise.  But 
the  trouble  was,  I  was  equally  certain  there  were 
wolves  skulking  through  the  dark  and  Indians 
skipping  among  the  rafters. 

'•  Ghosts  haven't  hands,"  says  Hortense, 
touching  mine  lightly;  and  the  touch  brought 
the  memory  of  those  old  mocking  airs  from  the 
spinet. 

Was  it  flood  of  memory  or  a  sick  man's 
dream?  The  presence  seemed  so  real  that  mus- 
tering all  strength,  I  turned — turned  to  see  Le 
Borgne,  the  one-eyed,  sitting  on  a  log-end  with 
a  stolid,  watchful,  unreadable  look  on  his  crafty 
face. 

Bluish  shafts  of  light  struck  athwart  the 
dark.  A  fire  burned  against  the  far  wall.  The 
smoke  had  the  pungent  bark  smell  of  the  flame 
that  used  to  burn  in  M.  Picot's  dispensary. 
This,  then,  had  brought  the  dreams  of  Hortense, 
now  so  far  away.     Skins  hung  ever}'where;  but 

241 


HERALDS    OF    EMPIRE 

in  places  the  earth  showed  through.  Like  a 
gleam  of  sunlight  through  dark  came  the 
thought — this  was  a  cave,  the  cave  of  the  pi- 
rates whose  voices  I  had  heard  from  the  ground 
that  night  in  the  forest,  one  pleading  to  save 
me,  the  other  sending  Le  Borgne  to  trap  me. 

Leaning  on  my  elbow,  I  looked  from  the 
Indian  to  a  bearskin  partition  hiding  another 
apartment.  Le  Borgne  had  carried  the  stolen 
pelts  of  the  massacred  tribe  to  the  inland  pirates. 
The  pirates  had  sent  him  back  for  me. 

And  Hortense  was  a  dream.  Ah,  well,  men 
in  their  senses  might  have  done  worse  than 
dream  of  a  Hortense! 

But  the  voice  and  the  hand  were  real. 

"  Le  Borgne,"  I  ask,  "  was  any  one  here?  " 

Le  Borgne's  cheeks  corrugate  in  wrinkles  of 
bronze  that  leer  an  evil  laugh,  and  he  pretends 
not  to  understand. 

"  Le  Borgne,  was  any  one  here  with  you?  " 

Le  Borgne  shifts  his  spread  feet,  mutters  a 
guttural  grunt,  and  puffs  out  his  torch;  but  the 
shafted  flame  reveals  his  shadow.  I  can  still  hear 
him  beside  me  in  the  dark. 

"  Le    Borgne    is    the    great    white    chiefs 

friend,"    I    say;    "and    the    white-man    is    the 

great  white  chief's  friend.     Where  are  we,  Le 

Borgne?  " 

243 


AFTERWARD 

Le  Borgne  grunts  out  a  low  huff-huff  of  a 

laugh. 

*'  Here;  white-man  is  here,"  says  Le  Borgne; 
and  he  shuffles  away  to  the  bearskin  partition 
hiding  another  apartment. 

Ah  well  as  I  said,  one  might  do  \vorse  than 
dream  of  Hortense.  But  in  spite  of  all  your  phi- 
losophers say  about  there  being  no  world  but 
the  world  we  spin  in  our  brains,  I  could  not  woo 
my  lady  back  to  it.  Like  the  wind  that  bloweth 
where  it  listeth  was  my  love.  Try  as  I  might  to 
call  up  that  pretty  deceit  of  a  Hortense  about 
me  in  spirit,  my  per\'erse  lady  came  not  to 
the  call. 

Then,  thoughts  would  race  back  to  the  mu- 
tiny on  the  stormy  sea,  to  the  roar  of  the  break- 
ers crashing  over  decks,  to  M.  Radisson  leaping 
up  from  dripping  wreckage,  muttering  between 
his  teeth — ''  Blind  god  o'  chance,  they  may 
crush,  but  they  shall  not  conquer;  they  may  kill, 
but  I  snap  my  fingers  in  their  faces  to  the 
death!" 

Then,  uncalled,  through  the  darkness  comes 
her  face. 

"  God  is  love,"  says  she. 

If  I  lie  there  like  a  log,  never  moving,  she 
seems  to  stay;  but  if  I  feel  out  through  the  dark- 
ness for  the  grip  of  a  living  hand,  for  the  sub- 

243 


HERALDS    OF    EMPIRE 

stance  of  a  reality  on  which  souls  anchor,  like 
the  shadow  of  a  dream  she  is  gone. 

I  mind  once  in  the  misty  region  between 
delirium  and  consciousness,  when  the  face 
slipped  from  me  like  a  fading  light,  I  called  out 
eagerly  that  love  was  a  phantom;  for  her  God  of 
love  had  left  me  to  the  blind  gods  that  crush,  to 
the  storm  and  the  dark  and  the  ravening  wolves. 

Like  a  light  flaming  from  dark,  the  face 
shone  through  the  gloom. 

"  Love,  a  phantom,"  laughs  the  mocking 
voice  of  the  imperious  Hortense  I  knew  long 
ago;  and  the  thrill  of  her  laugh  proves  love  the 
realest  phantom  life  can  know. 

Then  the  child  Hortense  becomes  of  a  sud- 
den the  grown  woman,  grave  and  sweet,  with 
eyes  in  the  dark  like  stars,  and  strange,  broken 
thoughts  I  had  not  dared  to  hope  shining  un- 
spoken on  her  face. 

*'  Life,  a  phantom — substance,  the  shadow 
— love,  the  all,"  the  dream-face  seems  to  be 
saying.  "  Events  are  God's  thoughts — storms 
and  darkness  and  prey  are  his  puppets,  the 
blind  gods,  his  slaves — God  is  love;  for  you  are 
here!  .  .  .  You  are  here!  .  .  .  You  are  here 
with  me!" 

When  I  feel  through  the  dark  this  time  is 
the  grip  of  a  living  hand. 

244 


AFTERWARD 

Then  we  lock  arms  and  sweep  through 
space,  the  northern  Hghts  curtaining  overhead, 
the  stars  for  torches,  and  the  blazing  comets 
heralding  a  way. 

"  The  very  stars  in  their  courses  fight  for 
us,"  says  Hortense. 

And  I,  with  an  earthy  intellect  groping  be- 
hind the  winged  love  of  the  woman,  think  that 
she  refers  to  some  of  M.  Picot's  mystic  astrol- 
ogies. 

"  No — no,"  says  the  dream-face,  with  the 
love  that  divines  without  speech,  "  do  you  not 
understand?  The  stars  fight  for  us — because — 
because " 

"  Because  God  is  love,"  catching  the  gleam 
of  the  thought;  and  the  stars  that  fight  in  their 
courses  for  mortals  sweep  to  a  noonday  splen- 
dour. 

And  all  the  while  I  was  but  a  crazy  dreamer 
lying  captive,  wounded  and  weak  in  a  pirate 
cave.  Oh,  yes,  I  know  very  well  what  my  fine 
gentlemen  dabblers  in  the  new  sciences  will  say 
— the  fellow  was  daft  and  delirious — he  had  lost 
grip  on  reality  and  his  fevered  wits  mixed  a 
mumble-jumble  of  ancient  symbolism  with  his 
own  adventures.  But  before  you  reduce  all  this 
great  universe  to  the  dimensions  of  a  chemist's 
crucible,  I  pray  you  to  think  twice  whether  the 

245 


HERALDS   OF   EMPIRE 

mind  that  fashioned  the  crucible  be  not  greater 
than  the  crucible;  whether  the  Master-mind  that 
shaped  the  laws  of  the  universe  be  not  greater 
than  the  universe;  whether  when  man's  mind 
loses  grip — as  you  call  it — of  the  little,  nag- 
ging, insistent  realities  it  may  not  leap  free  like 
the  jagged  lightnings  from  peak  to  peak  of  a  con- 
sciousness that  overtowers  life's  commoner  lev- 
els! Spite  of  our  boastings,  each  knows  neither 
more  nor  less  than  life  hath  taught  him.  For  me, 
I  know  what  the  dream-voice  spoke  proved  true: 
life,  the  shadow  of  a  great  reality;  love,  the  all; 
the  blind  gods  of  storm  and  dark  and  prey,  the 
puppets  of  the  God  of  gods,  working  his  will; 
and  the  God  of  gods  a  God  of  love,  realest  when 
love  is  near. 

Once,  I  mind,  the  dark  seemed  alive  with 
wolfish  shades,  sniffing,  prowling,  circling, 
creeping  nearer  like  that  monster  wolf  of  fable 
set  on  by  the  powers  of  evil  to  hunt  Man  to  his 
doom.  A  nightmare  of  fear  bound  me  down. 
The  death-frosts  settled  and  tightened  and 
closed — but  suddenly,  Hortense  took  cold 
hands  in  her  palms,  calling  and  calling  and  call- 
ing me  back  to  life  and  hope  and  her.  Then  I 
waked. 

Though  I  peopled  the  mist  with  many  shad- 
ows, Le  Borgne  alone  stood  there. 

246 


CHAPTER   XX 

WHO   THE   PIRATES   WERE 

How  long  I  lay  in  the  pirates'  cave  I  could 
not  tell;  for  day  and  night  were  alike  with  the 
pale-blue  flame  quivering  against  the  earth-wall, 
gusts  of  cold  air  sweeping  through  the  door,  low- 
whispered  talks  from  the  inner  cave. 

At  last  I  surprised  Le  Borgne  mightily  by 
sitting  bolt  upright  and  bidding  him  bring  me  a 
meal  of  bufTalo-tongue  or  teal.  With  the  stolid 
repartee  of  the  Indian  he  grunted  back  that  I 
had  tongue  enough;  but  he  brought  the  stuff 
with  no  ill  grace.  After  that  he  had  much  ado 
to  keep  me  off  my  feet.  Finally,  I  promised  by 
the  soul  of  his  grandfather  neither  to  spy  nor  lis- 
ten about  the  doors  of  the  inner  cave,  and  he  let 
me  up  for  an  hour  at  a  time  to  practise  walking 
with  the  aid  of  a  lance-pole.  As  he  found  that 
I  kept  my  word,  he  trusted  me  alone  in  the  cave, 
sitting  crouched  on  the  log-end  with  a  buckskin 
sling  round  my  shattered  sword-arm,  which  the 
wolves  had  not  helped  that  night  at  the  stake. 

247 


HERALDS   OF   EMPIRE 

In  the  food  Le  Borgne  brought  was  always  a 
flavour  of  simples  or  drugs.  One  night — at  least 
I  supposed  it  w^as  night  from  the  chill  of  the  air 
blowing  past  the  bearskin — just  as  Le  Borgne 
stooped  to  serve  me,  his  torch  flickered  out. 
Before  he  could  relight,  I  had  poured  the  broth 
out  and  handed  back  an  empty  bowl. 

Then  I  lay  with  eyes  tight  shut  and  senses 
wide  awake.  The  Indian  sat  on  the  log-end 
watching.  I  did  not  stir.  Neither  did  I  fall 
asleep  as  usual.  The  Indian  cautiously  passed  a 
candle  across  my  face.  I  lay  motionless  as  I  had 
been  drugged.  At  that  he  stalked  off.  Voices 
began  in  the  other  apartment.  Two  or  three 
forms  went  tip-toeing  about  the  cave.  Shadows 
passed  athwart  the  flame.  A  gust  of  cold;  and 
with  half-closed  eyes  I  saw  three  men  vanish 
through  the  outer  doorway  over  fields  no  longer 
snow-clad. 

Had  spring  come?  How  long  had  I  lain  in 
the  cave?  Before  I  gained  strength  to  escape, 
would  M.  Radisson  have  left  for  Quebec?  Then 
came  a  black  wave  of  memory — thought  of  Jack 
Battle,  the  sailor  lad,  awaiting  our  return  to 
rescue  him.  From  the  first  Jack  and  I  had  held 
together  as  aliens  in  Boston  Town.  Should  I  lie 
like  a  stranded  hull  while  he  perished?  Risking 
spies  on  the  watch,  I  struggled  up  and  staggered 

248 


WHO   THE    PIRATES   WERE 

across  the  cave  to  that  blue  flame  quivering  so 
mysteriously.  As  I  neared,  the  mystery  van- 
ished, for  it  was  nothing  more  than  one  of  those 
northern  beds  of  combustibles — gas,  tar,  or  coal 
— set  burning  by  the  ingenious  pirates.'*' 

The  spirit  was  willing  enough  to  help  Jack, 
but  the  flesh  was  weak.  Presently  I  sank  on  the 
heaped  pelts  all  atremble.  I  had  promised  not 
to  spy  nor  eavesdrop,  but  that  did  not  prohibit 
escape.  But  how  could  one  forage  for  food  with 
a  right  arm  in  bands  and  a  left  unsteady  as  aim 
of  a  girl?  Le  Borgne  had  befriended  me  twice — 
once  in  the  storm,  again  on  the  hill.  Perhaps  he 
might  know  of  Jack.  I  would  wait  the  Indian's 
return.  Meanwhile  I  could  practise  my  strength 
by  walking  up  and  down  the  cave. 

The  walls  were  hung  w'ith  pelts.  Where  the 
dry  clay  crumbled,  the  roof  had  been  timbered. 
A  rivulet  of  spring  water  bubbled  in  one  dark 
corner.  At  the  same  end  an  archway  led  to 
inner  recesses.  Behind  the  skin  doorway  sound- 
ed heavy  breathing,  as  of  sleepers.  I  had  prom- 
ised not  to  spy.  Turning,  I  retraced  the  way  to 
the  outer  door.    Here  another  pelt  swayed  heav- 

*  In  confirmation  of  Mr.  Stanhope's  record  it  may  be 
stated  that  on  the  western  side  of  the  northland  in  the  Mac- 
kenzie River  region  are  gas  and  tar  veins  that  are  known  to 
have  been  burning  continuously  for  nearly  two  centuries. 

249 


HERALDS   OF   EMPIRE 

ily  in  the  wind.  Dank,  earthy  smells  of  spring, 
odours  of  leaves  water-soaked  by  melting  snows, 
the  faint  perfume  of  fiowers  pushing  up  through 
mats  of  verdure,  blew  in  on  the  night  breeze. 

Pushing  aside  the  flap,  I  looked  out.  The 
spur  of  a  steep  declivity  cut  athwart  the  cave. 
Now  I  could  guess  where  I  was.  This  was  the 
hill  down  which  I  had  stumbled  that  night  the 
voices  had  come  from  the  ground.  Here  the 
masked  man  had  sprung  from  the  thicket.  Not 
far  off  M.  Radisson  had  first  met  the  Indians. 
To  reach  the  French  Habitation  I  had  but  to 
follow  the  river. 

That  hope  set  me  pacing  again  for  exer- 
cise; and  the  faster  I  walked  the  faster  raced 
thoughts  over  the  events  of  the  crowded  years. 
Again  the  Prince  Rupert  careened  seaward, 
bearing  Uttle  Hortense  to  England.  Once  more 
Ben  Gillam  swaggered  on  the  water-front  of 
Boston  Town,  boasting  all  that  he  would  do 
when  he  had  ship  of  his  own.  Then  Jack  Bat- 
tle, building  his  castles  of  fortune  for  love  of 
Hortense,  and  all  unconsciously  letting  slip  the 
secret  of  good  Boston  men  deep  involved  in 
pirate  schemes.  The  scene  shifted  to  the  far 
north,  and  a  masked  man  had  leaped  from  the 
forest  dark  only  to  throw  down  his  weapon  when 
the  firelight  shone  on  my  face.    Again  the  white 

250 


WHO   THE    PIRATES   WERE 

darkness  of  the  storm,  the  three  shadowy  figures 
and  Le  Borgne  sent  to  guide  us  back  to  the  fort. 
Again,  to  beat  of  drum  and  shriek  of  fife,  M. 
Radisson  was  holding  his  own  against  the 
swarming  savages  that  assailed  the  New  Eng- 
landers'  fort.  Then  I  was  living  over  the  un- 
speakable horror  of  the  Indian  massacre  ending 
in  that  awful  wait  on  the  crest  of  the  hill. 

The  memory  brought  a  chill  as  of  winter  cold. 
With  my  back  to  both  doors  I  stood  shuddering 
over  the  blue  fire.  Whatever  logicians  may  say, 
we  do  not  reason  life's  conclusions  out.  Clouds 
blacken  the  heavens  till  there  comes  the  light- 
ning-flash. So  do  our  intuitions  leap  unwarned 
from  the  dark.  Twas  thus  I  seemed  to  fathom 
the  mystery  of  those  interlopers.  Ben  Gillam 
had  been  chosen  to  bring  the  pirate  ship  north 
because  his  father,  of  the  Hudson's  Bay  Com- 
pany, could  screen  him  from  English  spies.  T^Ir. 
Stocking,  of  Boston,  was  another  partner  to  the 
venture,  who  could  shield  Ben  from  punishment 
in  New  England.  But  the  third  partner  was 
hiding  inland  to  defraud  the  others  of  the  furs. 
That  was  the  meaning  of  Ben's  drunken  threats. 
Who  was  the  third  partner?  Had  not  Eli  Kirke 
planned  trading  in  the  north  with  Mr.  Stocking? 
Were  the  pirates  some  agents  of  my  uncle?  Did 
that  explain  why  my  life  had  been  three  times 
17  251 


HERALDS    OF    EMPIRE 

spared?  One  code  of  morals  for  the  church  and 
another  for  the  trade  is  the  way  of  many  a  man; 
but  would  the  agents  of  a  Puritan  deacon  mur- 
der a  rival  in  the  dark  of  a  forest,  or  lead 
Indians  to  massacre  the  crew  of  partners,  or 
take  furs  gotten  at  the  price  of  a  tribe's  exter- 
mination? 

Turning  that  question  over,  I  heard  the  inner 
door-flap  lift.  There  was  no  time  to  regain  the 
couch,  but  a  quick  swerve  took  me  out  of  the 
firelight  in  the  shadow  of  a  great  wolfskin 
against  the  wall.  You  will  laugh  at  the  old  idea 
of  honour,  but  I  had  promised  not  to  spy,  and 
I  never  raised  my  eyes  from  the  floor.  There 
was  no  sound  but  the  gurgling  of  the  spring  in 
the  dark  and  the  sharp  crackle  of  the  flame. 

Thinking  the  wind  had  blown  the  flap,  I 
stepped  from  hiding.  Something  vague  as  mist 
held  back  in  shadow.  The  lines  of  a  white-clad 
figure  etched  themselves  against  the  cave  wall. 
It  floated  out,  paused,  moved  forward. 

Then  I  remember  clutching  at  the  wolfskin 
like  one  clinching  a  death-grip  of  reality,  pray- 
ing God  not  to  let  go  a  soul's  anchor-hold  of 
reason. 

For  when  the  figure  glided  into  the  slant 
blue  rays  of  the  shafted  flame  it  was  Hortense — 
the  Hortense  of  the  dreams,  sweet  as  the  child, 

252 


WHO   THE    PIRATES   WERE 

grave  as  the  grown  woman — Hortense  with 
closed  eyes  and  moving  lips  and  hands  feeling 
out  in  the  dark  as  if  playing  invisible  keys. 

She  was  asleep. 

Then  came  the  flash  that  lighted  the  clouds 
of  the  past. 

The  interloper,  the  pirate,  the  leader  of  In- 
dian marauders,  the  defrauder  of  his  partners, 
was  M.  Picot,  the  French  doctor,  whom  Boston 
had  outlawed,  and  who  w^as  now  outlawing  their 
outlawry.  We  do  not  reason  out  our  conclu- 
sions, as  I  said  before.  At  our  supremest  mo- 
ments we  do  not  think.  Consciousness  leaps 
from  summit  to  summit  like  the  forked  lightnings 
across  the  mountain-peaks;  and  the  mysteries  of 
life  are  illumined  as  a  spread-out  scroll.  In  that 
moment  of  joy  and  fear  and  horror,  as  I  crouched 
back  to  the  wall,  I  did  not  think,  I  knew — knew 
the  meaning  of  all  M.  Picot's  questionings  on 
the  fur  trade;  of  that  murderous  attack  in  the 
dark  when  an  antagonist  fiung  down  his  weapon; 
of  the  spying  through  the  frosted  woods;  of  the 
figures  in  the  white  darkness;  of  the  attempt  to 
destroy  Ben  Gillam's  fort;  of  the  rescue  from 
the  crest  of  the  hill;  and  of  all  those  strange  de- 
lirious dreams. 

It  was  as  if  the  past  focused  itself  to  one 
flaming  point,  and  the  flash  of  that  point  illu- 

253 


HERALDS   OF   EMPIRE 

mined  life,  as  deity  must  feel  to  whom  past  and 
present  and  future  are  one. 

And  all  the  while,  with  temples  pounding  like 
surf  on  rock  and  the  roar  of  the  sea  in  my  ears, 
I  was  not  thinking,  only  knowing  that  Hortense 
w^as  standing  in  the  blue-shafted  light  with  trem- 
ulous Hps  and  white  face  and  a  radiance  on  her 
brow  not  of  this  life. 

Her  hands  ran  lightly  over  imaginary  keys. 
The  blue  fiame  darted  and  quivered  through  the 
gloom.  The  hushed  purr  of  the  spring  broke  the 
stillness  in  metallic  tinklings.  A  smile  flitted 
across  the  sleeper's  face.  Her  lips  parted.  The 
crackle  of  the  fiame  seemed  loud  as  tick  of  clock 
in  death-room. 

'*  To  get  the  memory  of  it,"  she  said. 

And  there  stole  out  of  the  past  mocking 
memories  of  that  last  night  in  the  hunting-room, 
filling  the  cave  with  tuneless  melodies  like 
thoughts  creeping  into  thoughts  or  odour  of 
liowers  in  dark. 

But  what  was  she  saying  in  her  sleep? 

"  BUnd  gods  of  chance  " — the  words  that 
had  haunted  my  delirium,  then  quick-spoken 
snatches  too  low  for  me  to  hear — "  no — no  " — 
then  more  that  was  incoherent,  and  she  was  glid- 
ing back  to  the  cave. 

She  had  lifted  the  curtain  door — she  was 

254 


WHO    THE    PIRATES   WERE 

whispering — she  paused  as  if  for  answer — then 
with  face  ahght,  ''  The  stars  fight  for  us — "  she 
said;  and  she  had  disappeared. 

The  flame  set  the  shadows  flickering.  The 
rivulet  gurgled  loud  in  the  dark.  And  I  came 
from  concealment  as  from  a  spirit  world. 

Then  Hortense  was  no  dream,  and  love  was 
no  phantom,  and  God — was  what? 

There  I  halted.  The  powers  of  darkness  yet 
pressed  too  close  for  me  to  see  through  to  the 
God  that  was  love.  I  only  knew  that  He  who 
throned  the  universe  was  neither  the  fool  that 
ignorant  bigots  painted,  nor  the  blind  power, 
making  wanton  war  of  storm  and  dark  and  cold. 
For  had  not  the  blind  forces  brought  Hortense 
to  me,  and  me  to  Hortense? 

Consciousness  was  leaping  from  summit  to 
summit  like  the  forked  lightnings,  and  the  light 
that  burned  was  the  light  that  transfigures  life 
for  each  soul. 

The  spell  of  a  presence  was  there. 
Then  it  came  home  to  me  what  a  desperate 
game  the  French  doctor  had  played.  That 
sword-thrust  in  the  dark  meant  death;  so  did 
the  attack  on  Ben  Gillam's  fort;  and  was  it  not 
Le  Borgne,  M.  Picot's  Indian  ally,  who  had 
counselled  the  massacre  of  the  sleeping  tribe? 
You  must  not  think  that  IM.  Picot  was  worse 

255 


HERALDS   OF    EMPIRE 

than  other  traders  of  those  days!  The  north  is 
a  desolate  land,  and  though  blood  cry  aloud 
from  stones,  there  is  no  man  to  hear. 

I  easily  guessed  that  M.  Picot  would  try  to 
keep  me  with  him  till  M.  Radisson  had  sailed. 
Then  I  must  needs  lock  hands  with  piracy. 

Hortense  and  I  were  pawns  in  the  game. 

At  one  moment  I  upbraided  him  for  bringing 
Hortense  to  this  wilderness  of  murder  and  pil- 
lage. At  another  I  considered  that  a  banished 
gentleman  could  not  choose  his  goings.  How 
could  I  stay  with  M.  Picot  and  desert  M.  de  Ra- 
disson? How  could  I  go  to  M.  de  Radisson  and 
abandon  Hortense? 

*'  Straight  is  the  narrow  way,"  Eli  Kirke  oft 
cried  out  as  he  expounded  Holy  Writ. 

Ah,  well,  if  the  narrow  way  is  straight,  it  has 
a  trick  of  becoming  tangled  in  a  most  terrible 
snarl ! 

Wheeling  the  log-end  right  about,  I  sat 
down  to  await  M.  Picot.  There  was  stirring  in 
the  next  apartment.  An  ebon  head  poked  past 
the  door  curtain,  looked  about,  and  withdrew 
without  detecting  me.  The  face  I  remembered 
at  once.  It  was  the  wife  of  M.  Picot's  blacka- 
moor. Only  three  men  had  passed  from  the 
cave.  If  the  blackamoor  w'ere  one,  M.  Picot 
and  Le  Borgne  must  be  the  others. 

256 


WHO    THE    PIRATES   WERE 

Footsteps  grated  on  the  pebbles  outside.  I 
rose  with  beating  heart  to  meet  M.  Picot,  who 
held  my  fate  in  his  hands.  Then  a  ringing  pistol- 
shot  set  my  pulse  jumping. 

I  ran  to  the  door.  Something  plunged  heav- 
ily against  the  curtain.  The  robe  ripped  from 
the  hangings.  In  the  flood  of  moonlight  a  man 
pitched  face  forward  to  the  cave  floor.  He 
reeled  up  with  a  cry  of  rage,  caught  blindly  at 
the  air,  uttered  a  groan,  fell  back. 

"M.  Picot!" 

Blanched  and  faint,  the  French  doctor  lay 
with  a  crimsoning  pool  wet  under  his  head. 

"  I  am  shot!  What  will  become  of  her?  "  he 
groaned.  *'  I  am  shot!  It  was  Gillam!  It  was 
Gillam!" 

Hortense  and  the  negress  came  running  from 
the  inner  cave.  Le  Borgne  and  the  blackamoor 
dashed  from  the  open  with  staring  horror. 

''Lift  me  up!  For  God's  sake,  air!"  cried 
M.  Picot. 

We  laid  him  on  the  pelts  in  the  doorway,  Le 
Borgne  standing  guard  outside. 

Hortense  stooped  to  stanch  the  wound,  but 
the  doctor  motioned  her  off  with  a  fierce  impa- 
tience, and  bade  the  negress  lead  her  away. 
Then  he  lay  with  closed  eyes,  hands  clutched  to 
the  pelts,  and  shuddering  breath. 

257 


HERALDS    OF    EMPIRE 

The  blackamoor  had  rushed  to  the  inner 
cave  for  Hquor,  when  M.  Picot  opened  his  eyes 
with  a  strange  far  look  fastened  upon  me. 

''  Swear  it,"  he  commanded. 

And  I  thought  his  mind  wandering. 

He  groaned  heavily.  "  Don't  you  under- 
stand? It's  Hortense.  Swear  you'll  restore 
her — "  and  his  breath  came  with  a  hard  metallic 
rattle  that  warned  the  end. 

''  Doctor  Picot,"  said  I,  "  if  you  have  any- 
thing to  say,  say  it  quickly  and  make  your  peace 
with  God!  " 

"  Swear  you'll  take  her  back  to  her  people 
and  treat  her  as  a  sister,"  he  cried. 

**  I  swear  before  God  that  I  shall  take  Hor- 
tense back  to  her  people,  and  that  I  shall  treat 
her  like  a  sister,"  I  repeated,  raising  my  right 
hand. 

That  seemed  to  quiet  him.  He  closed  his 
eyes. 

''  Sir,"  said  I,  "  have  you  nothing  more  to 
say?     Who  are  her  people?  " 

"  Is  .  .  .  is  .  .  .  any  one  listening?  "  he 
asked  in  short,  hard  breaths. 

I  motioned  the  others  back. 

"'  Listen  " — the  words  came  in  quick,  rasping 
breaths.  ''  She  is  not  mine  ...  it  was  at  night 
.  .  .  they  brought  her  .  .  .  ward  o'  the  court 

25S 


WHO    THE    PIRATES   WERE 

.  .  .  lands  .  .  .  they  wanted  me."  There  was  a 
sharp  pause,  a  shivering  whisper.  "  I  didn't  poi- 
son her" — the  dying  man  caught  convulsively 
at  my  hands — ''  I  swear  I  had  no  thought  of 
harming  her.  .  .  .  They  .  .  .  paid.  ...  I 
fled.  .  .  ." 

''  Who  paid  you  to  poison  Hortense?  Who 
is  Hortense?  "  I  demanded;  for  his  life  was  ebb- 
ing and  the  words  portended  deep  wrong. 

But  his  mind  was  wandering  again,  for  he 
began  talking  so  fast  that  I  could  catch  only  a 
few  words.  ''Blood!  Blood!  Colonel  Blood!  " 
Then  "  Swear  it,"  he  cried. 

That  speech  sapped  his  strength.  He  sank 
back  with  shut  eyes  and  faint  breathings. 

We  forced  a  potion  between  his  lips. 

"  Don't  let  Gillam,"  he  mumbled,  ''  don't  let 
Gillam  .  .  .  have  the  furs." 

A  tremor  ran  through  his  stififening  frame. 
A  little  shuddering  breath — and  ^I.  Picot  had 
staked  his  last  pawn  in  Ufe's  game. 


259 


CHAPTER    XXI 

HOW    THE    PIRATES    CAME 

Inside  our  Habitation  all  was  the  confusion 
of  preparation  for  leaving  the  bay.  Outside, 
the  Indians  held  high  carnival;  for  Allemand, 
the  gin-soaked  pilot,  was  busy  passing  drink 
through  the  loopholes  to  a  pandemonium  of 
savages  raving  outside  the  stockades.  Tis  not 
a  pretty  picture,  that  memor\-  of  white-men  be- 
sotting the  Indian;  but  I  must  even  set  down 
the  facts  as  they  are,  bidding  you  to  remember 
that  the  white  trader  who  besotted  the  Indian 
was  the  same  white  trader  who  befriended  all 
tribes  alike  when  the  hunt  failed  and  the  famine 
came.  La  Chesnaye,  the  merchant  prince,  it 
was,  who  managed  this  low  traf^cking.  Indeed, 
for  the  rubbing  together  of  more  doubloons  in 
his  money-bags  I  think  that  La  Chesnaye's  ser- 
vile nature  would  have  bargained  to  send  souls 
in  job  lots  blindfold  over  the  gangplank.  But, 
as  La  Chesnaye  said  when  Pierre  Radisson  re- 
monstrated against  the  knavery,  the  gin  was 
nine  parts  rain-water. 

260 


HOW   THE    PIRATES   CAME 

"  The  more  cheat,  you,  to  lay  such  unction 
to  your  conscience,"  says  'M.  de  Radisson.  *'  Be 
an  honest  knave,  La  Chesnaye!  " 

Foret,  the  marquis,  stalked  up  and  down  be- 
fore the  gate  with  two  guards  at  his  heels.    All 
day   long   birch   canoes   and   log   dugouts   and 
tubby  pirogues  and  crazy  rafts  of  loose-lashed 
pine  logs  drifted  to  our  water-front  with  bands 
of  squahd   Indians  bringing   their  pelts.     Skin 
tepees  rose  outside  our  palisades  like  an  army 
of  mushrooms.     Naked  brats  with  wisps  of  hair 
coarse    as    a    horse's    mane    crawled    over    our 
mounted  cannon,  or  scudded  between  our  feet 
like   pups,   or  felt   our  European   clothes  with 
impudent    wonder.      Young    girls    having    hair 
plastered  flat  with  bears  grease  stood  peeping 
shyly  from  tent  flaps.     Old  squawks  with  skin 
withered  to  a  parchment  hung  over  the  camp- 
fires,  cooking.    And  at  the  loopholes  pressed  the 
braves   and   the  bucks   and   the   chief  men   ex- 
changing beaver-skins  for  old  iron,  or  a  silver 
fox  for  a  drink  of  gin,   or  ermine   enough  to 
make  His  Majesty's  coronation  robe  for  som.e 
flashy  trinket  to  trick  out  a  vain  squaw.     From 
dawn  to  dusk  ran  the  patter  of  moccasined  feet, 
man  after  man  toiling  up   from   river-front  to 
fort  gate  with  bundles  of  peltries  on  his  back 
and  a  carrying  strap  across  his  brow. 

261 


HERALDS    OF    EMPIRE 

Unarmed,  among  the  savages,  pacifying 
drunken  hostiles  at  the  water-front,  bidding 
Jean  and  me  look  after  the  carriers,  in  the  gate- 
way, helping  Sieur  de  Groseillers  to  sort  the 
furs — Pierre  Radisson  was  ever}'where.  In  the 
guard-house  were  more  English  prisoners  than 
we  had  crews  of  French;  and  in  the  mess-room 
sat  Governor  Brigdar  of  the  Hudson's  Bay 
Company,  who  took  his  captivity  mighty  ill  and 
grew  prodigious  pot-valiant  over  his  cups. 
Here,  too,  lolled  Ben  Gillam.  the  young  Xew 
Englander,  rumbling  out  a  drunken  vengeance 
against  those  inland  pirates,  who  had  deprived 
him  of  the  season's  furs. 

Once,  I  mind,  when  M.  Radisson  came  sud- 
denly on  these  two  worthies,  their  fuddled  heads 
were  close  together  above  the  table. 

*'  Look  you,"  Ben  was  saying  in  a  big.  rasp- 
ing whisper,  "  I  shot  him — I  shot  him  with  a 
brass  button.  The  black  arts  are  powerless  agen 
brass.  Devil  sink  my  soul  if  I  didn't  shoot  him! 
The  red — spattered  over  the  brush " 

]M.  Radisson  raised  a  hand  to  silence  my 
coming. 

Ben's  nose  poked  across  the  table,  closer  to 
Governor  Brigdar's  ear. 

"  But  look  you,  IMister  What's-yer-name/* 
says  he. 

262 


HOW   THE    PIRATES   CAME 

"Don't  you  Mister  me,  you  young  cub!" 
interrupts  the  governor  with  a  pompous  show 
of  drunken  dignity. 

"  A  fig  for  Your  Excellency,"  cries  the 
young  blackguard.  '*'  Who's  who  when  he's 
drunk?  As  I  was  a-telling,  look  you,  though 
the  red  spattered  the  bushes,  when  I  run  up 
he'd  vanished  into  air  with  a  flash  o'  pow- 
der from  my  musket!  'Twas  by  the  black  arts 
that  nigh  hanged  him  in  Boston  Town " 

At  that,  Governor  Brigdar  claps  his  hand 
to  the  table  and  swears  that  he  cares  nothing 
for  black  arts  if  only  the  furs  can  be  found. 

"  The  furs — aye,"  husks  Ben,  ''  if  we  can 
only  find  the  furs!  An  our  men  hold  together, 
we're  two  to  one  agen  the  Frenchies " 

"  Ha,"  says  ^l.  Radisson.  '*  Give  you  good- 
morning,  gentlemen,  and  I  hope  you  find  your- 
selves in  health." 

The  two  heads  flew  apart  like  the  halves 
of  a  burst  cannon-shell.  Thereafter,  Radisson 
kept  Ben  and  Governor  Brigdar  apart. 

Of  Godefroy  and  Jack  Battle  we  could  learn 
naught.  Le  Borgne  would  never  tell  what  he 
and  M.  Picot  had  seen  that  night  they  rescued 
me  from  the  hill.  Whether  Le  Borgne  and  the 
hostiles  of  the  massacre  lied  or  no,  they  both 
told  the  same  story  of  Jack.     While  the  tribe 

263 


HERALDS    OF    EMPIRE 

\vas  still  engaged  in  the  scalp-dance,  some  one 
had  untied  Jack's  bands.  When  the  braves 
went  to  torture  their  captive,  he  had  escaped. 
But  whither  had  he  gone  that  he  had  not  come 
back  to  us?  Like  the  sea  is  the  northland,  full 
of  nameless  graves;  and  after  sending  scouts  far 
and  wide,  we  gave  up  all  hope  of  finding  the 
sailor  lad. 

But  in  the  fort  was  another  whose  presence 
our  rough  fellows  likened  to  a  star  flower  on 
the  stained  ground  of  some  hard-fought  battle. 
After  M.  Radisson  had  quieted  turbulent  spirits 
by  a  reading  of  holy  lessons,  Mistress  Hor- 
tense  queened  it  over  our  table  of  a  Sunday  at 
noon.  Waiting  upon  her  at  either  hand  were 
the  blackamoor  and  the  negress.  A  soldier  in 
red  stood  guard  behind;  and  every  man,  officer, 
and  commoner  down  the  long  mess-table  tuned 
his    manners    to    the    pure    grace    of    her    fair 

face. 

What  a  hushing  of  voices  and  cleansing  of 
wits  and  disusing  of  oaths  was  there  after  my 
little  lady  came  to  our  rough  Habitation! 

I  mind  the  first  Sunday  M.  Radisson  led 
her  out  like  a  queen  to  the  mess-room  table. 
When  our  voyageurs  went  upstream  for  M. 
Picot's  hidden  furs,  her  stor}^  had  got  noised 
about  the  fort.     Officers,   soldiers,  and  sailors 

264 


HOW   THE    PIRATES    CAME 

had  seated  themselves  at  the  long  benches  on 
either  side  the  table;  but  M.  Radisson's  place 
was  empty  and  a  sort  of  throne  chair  had  been 
extemporized  at  the  head  of  the  table.  An  an- 
gry question  went  from  group  to  group  to  know 
if  M.  Radisson  designed  such  place  of  honour 
for  the  two  leaders  of  our  prisoners — under  lock 
in  the  guard-room.  M.  de  Groseillers  only 
laughed  and  bade  the  fellows  contain  their  souls 
and  stomachs  in  patience.  A  moment  later,  the 
door  to  the  quarters  where  Hortense  lived 
was  thrown  open  by  a  red-coated  soldier,  and 
out  stepped  M.  Radisson  leading  Hortense  by 
the  tips  of  her  dainty  fingers,  the  ebon  faces  of 
the  two  blackamoors  grinning  delight  behind. 

You  could  have  heard  a  pin  fall  among  our 
fellows.  Then  there  was  a  noise  of  armour 
clanking  to  the  floor,  Ever}^  man  unconsciously 
took  to  throwing  his  pistol  under  the  table, 
flinging  sword-belt  down  and  hiding  daggers 
below  benches.  Of  a  sudden,  the  surprise  went 
to  their  heads. 

"  Gentlemen,"  began  M.  Radisson. 

But  the  fellows  would  have  none  of  his 
grand  speeches.  With  a  cheer  that  set  the  raft- 
ers ringing,  they  were  on  their  feet;  and  to  Mis- 
tress Hortense's  face  came  a  look  that  does  more 
for  the  making  of  men  than  all  New  England's 

265 


HERALDS    OF    EMPIRE 

laws  or  my  uncle's  blasphemy  boxes  or  King 
Charles's  dragoons.  You  ask  what  that  look 
^vas?  Go  to,  with  your  teasings!  A  lover  is  not 
to  be  asked  his  whys!  I  ask  you  in  return  why 
you  like  the  spire  of  a  cathedral  pointing  up  in- 
stead of  down;  or  why  the  muses  lift  souls  heav- 
enward? Indeed,  of  all  the  fine  arts  granted 
the  human  race  to  lead  men's  thoughts  above 
the  sordid  brutalities  of  living,  methinks  woman 
is  the  finest;  for  God's  own  hand  fashioned  her, 
and  she  was  the  last  crowning  piece  of  all  His 
week's  doings.  The  finest  arts  are  the  easiest 
spoiled,  as  you  know  very  well;  and  if  you  de- 
mand how  Mistress  Hortense  could  escape  harm 
amid  all  the  wickedness  of  that  wilderness,  I  an- 
swer it  is  a  thing  that  your  townsfolk  cannot 
know. 

It  is  of  the  wilderness. 

The  wilderness  is  a  foster-mother  that  teach- 
eth  hard,  strange  paradoxes.  The  first  is  the  sin 
of  being  zveak;  and  the  second  is  that  death  is  the 
least  of  life's  harms. 

Wrapped  in  those  furs  for  which  he  had 
staked  his  life  like  many  a  gamester  of  the  wil- 
derness, M.  Picot  lay  buried  in  that  sandy 
stretch  outside  the  cave  door.  Turning  to  lead 
Hortense  awav  before  Le  Borgne  and  the  black- 

266 


HOW   THE    PIRATES   CAME 

amoor   began   filling   the   grave,    I   found   her 
stonily  silent  and  tearless. 

But  it  was  she  who  led  me. 

Scrambling  up  the  hillside  like  a  chamois 
of  the  mountains,  she  flitted  lightly  through  the 
greening  to  a  small  open  where  campers  had 
built  night  fires.  Her  quick  glance  ran  from 
tree  to  tree.  Some  wood-runner  had  blazed  a 
trail  by  notching  the  bark.  Pausing,  she  turned 
with  the  frank,  fearless  look  of  the  wilderness 
woman.  She  was  no  longer  the  elusive  Hor- 
tense  of  secluded  life.  A  change  had  come — the 
change  of  the  hothouse  plant  set  out  to  the 
buffetings  of  the  four  winds  of  heaven  to  perish 
from  weakness  or  gather  strength  from  hard- 
ship. Your  woman  of  older  lands  must  hood 
fair  eyes,  perforce,  lest  evil  masking  under  other 
eyes  give  wrong  intent  to  candour;  but  in  the 
wilderness  each  life  stands  stripped  of  pretence, 
honestly  good  or  evil,  bare  at  what  it  is;  and  pu- 
rity clear  as  the  noonday  sun  needs  no  trick  of 
custom  to  make  it  plainer. 

"  Is  not  this  the  place?  "  she  asked. 

Looking  closer,  from  shrub  to  open,  I  recog- 
nised the  ground  of  that  night  attack  in  the 
woods. 

''  Hortense,  then  it  was  you  that  I  saw  at 
the  fire  with  the  others?  " 
i8  267 


HERALDS    OF    EMPIRE 

She  nodded  assent.  She  had  not  uttered  one 
word  to  explain  how  she  came  to  that  wild  land; 
nor  had  I  asked. 

"  It  was  you  who  pleaded  for  my  life  in  the 
cave  below  my  feet?  " 

''I  did  not  know  you  had  heard!  I  only 
sent  Le  Borgne  to  bring  you  back!  " 

"  I  hid  as  he  passed." 

"  But  I  sent  a  message  to  the  fort " 

"  Not  to  be  bitten  by  the  same  dog  twice — 
I  thought  that  meant  to  keep  away?  " 

''  What?  "  asked  Hortense,  passing  her  hand 
over  her  eyes.  ''  Was  that  the  message  he  gave 
you?  Then  monsieur  had  bribed  him!  I  sent 
for  you  to  come  to  us.  Oh,  that  is  the  reason 
you  never  came " 

"  And  that  is  the  reason  you  have  hidden 
from  me  all  the  year  and  never  sent  me  word?  " 

"  I  thought  —  I  thought  —  "  She  turned 
away.  "  Ben  Gillam  told  monsieur  you  had  left 
Boston  on  our  account " 

"  And  you  thought  I  wanted  to  avoid 
you " 

"  I  did  not  blame  you,"  she  said.  "  Indeed, 
indeed,  I  was  very  weak — monsieur  must  have 
bribed  Le  Borgne — I  sent  word  again  and  again 
— but  you  never  answered!  " 

"  How  could  you  misunderstand —    O  Hor- 

268 


HOW   THE    PIRATES   CAME 

tense,  after  that  night  in  the  hunting-room,  how 
could  you  beheve  so  poorly  of  me!  " 

She  gave  a  low  laugh.  ''  That's  what  your 
good  angel  used  to  plead/'  she  said. 

"  Good  angel,  indeed!  "  said  I,  memory  of 
the  vows  to  that  miscreant  adventurer  fading. 
"That  good  angel  was  a  lazy  baggage!  She 
should  have  compelled  you  to  believe!  " 

"  Oh — she  did,"  says  Hortense  quickly. 
"  The  poor  thing  kept  telling  me  and  telling  me 
to  trust  you  till  I " 

"  Till  you  what,  Hortense?  " 

She  did  not  answer  at  once. 

"  Monsieur  and  the  blackamoor  and  I  had 
gone  to  the  upper  river  watching  for  the  ex- 
pected boats " 

''  Hortense,  were  you  the  white  figure  be- 
hind the  bush  that  night  we  were  spying  on  the 
Prince  Rupert!  " 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  "  and  you  pointed  your 
gun  at  me!  " 

I  was  too  dumfounded  for  words.  Then 
a  suspicion  flashed  to  my  mind.  ''  Who  sent 
Le  Borgne  for  us  in  the  storm,  Hortense?  " 

"Oh,"  says  Hortense,  "that  was  nothing! 
Monsieur  pretended  that  he  thought  you  were 
caribou.  He  wanted  to  shoot.  Oh,"  she  said, 
"oh,   how   I   have   hated  him!     To   think — to 

269 


HERALDS    OF    EMPIRE 

think  that  he  would  shoot  when  you  helped  us 
in  Boston!" 

*'  Hortense,  who  sent  Le  Borgne  and  M. 
Picot  to  save  me  from  the  wolves?  " 

"  Oh,"  says  Hortense  bravely,  with  a  shud- 
der between  the  words,  "  that  was — that  was 
nothing — I  mean — one  would  do  as  much  for 
anybody — for — for — for  a  poor  little  stoat,  or — 
or — a  caribou  if  the  wolves  were  after  it!  " 

And  we  laughed  with  the  tears  in  our  eyes. 
And  all  the  while  that  vow  to  the  dying  adven- 
turer was  ringing  like  a  faint  death  toll  to  hope. 
I  remember  trying  to  speak  a  gratitude  too 
deep  for  words. 

"  Can — I  ever — ever  repay  you — Hor- 
tense? "  I  was  asking. 

"  Repay!  "  she  said  with  a  little  bitter  laugh. 
"  Oh!  I  hate  that  word  repay!  I  hate  all  give- 
and-take  and  so-much-given-for-so-much-got!  " 
Then  turning  to  me  with  her  face  aflame:  *'  I 
am — I  am — oh — why  can't  you  understand?  " 
she  asked. 

And  then — and  then — there  was  a  wordless 
cry — her  arms  reached  out  in  mute  appeal — 
there  was  no  need  of  speech. 

The  forest  shone  green  and  gold  in  the  sun- 
light. The  wind  rustled  past  like  a  springtime 
presence,  a  presence  that  set  all  the  pines  sway- 

2/0 


HOW   THE    PIRATES    CAME 

ing  and  the  aspens  aquiver  with  music  of  flower 
legend  and  new  birth  and  the  joy  of  Hfe. 
There  was  a  long  silence;  and  in  that  silence  the 
pulsing  of  the  mighty  forces  that  hft  mortals  to 
immortality. 

Then  a  voice  which  only  speaks  when  love 
speaks  through  the  voice  was  saying,  "  Do  you 
remember  your  dreams?  " 

"What?"  stooping  to  cull  some  violets 
that  had  looked  well  against  the  green  of  her 
hunting-suit. 

'' '  Blind  gods  of  chance — blind  gods  of 
chance' — you  used  to  say  that  over  and 
over! 

*'Ah,  M.  Radisson  taught  me  that!  God 
bless  the  blind  gods  of  chance — Hortense  teach- 
es me  that;  for" — giving  her  back  her  own  words 
— "  you  are  here — you  are  here — you  are  here 
with  me!    God  bless  the  gods  of  chance!  " 

"Oh,"  she  cried,  "were  you  not  asleep? 
Monsieur  let  me  watch  after  you  had  taken  the 
sleeping  drug." 

"The  stars  fight  for  us  in  their  courses," 
said  I,  handing  up  the  violets. 

"  Ramsay,"  she  asked  with  a  sudden  look 
straight  through  my  eyes,  ''  what  did  he  make 
you  promise  when — when — he  was  dying?  " 

The  question  brought  me  up  like  a  sail  hauled 

271 


HERALDS    OF    EMPIRE 

short.  And  when  I  told  her,  she  uttered  strange 
reproaches. 

"  Why — why  did  you  promise  that?  "  she 
asked.  ''  It  has  ahvays  been  his  mad  dream. 
And  when  I  told  him  I  did  not  want  to  be  re- 
stored, that  I  wanted  to  be  like  Rebecca  and 
Jack  and  you  and  the  rest,  he  called  me  a  little 
fool  and  bade  me  understand  that  he  had  not 
poisoned  me  as  he  •  was  paid  to  do  because 
it  was  to  his  advantage  to  keep  me  alive.  Cour- 
tiers would  not  assassinate  a  stray  waif,  he  said; 
there  was  wealth  for  the  court's  ward  some- 
where; and  when  I  was  restored,  I  was  to  re- 
member who  had  slaved  for  me.  Indeed,  in- 
deed, I  think  that  he  would  have  married  me, 
but  that  he  feared  it  would  bar  him  from  any 
property  as  a  king's  ward " 

''  Is  that  all  you  know?  " 

''  That  is  all.  Why — why — did  you  prom- 
ise? " 

"  What  else  was  there  to  do,  Hortense? 
You  can't  stay  in  this  wilderness." 

*'  Oh,  yes,"  says  Hortense  wearily,  and  she 
let  the  violets  fall.  "  What — what  else  was  there 
to  do?" 

She  led  the  way  back  to  the  cave. 

"  You  have  not  asked  me  how  we  came 
here,"  she  began  with  visible  effort. 

272 


HOW   THE    PIRATES   CAME 

"  Tell  me  no  more  than  you  wish  me  to 
know!" 

"  Perhaps  you  remember  a  New  Amsterdam 
gentleman  and  a  page  boy  leaving  Boston  on 
the  Prince  Rupert?  " 

"  Perhaps,"  said  I. 

"  Captain  Gillam  of  the  Prince  Rupert  sig- 
nalled to  his  son  outside  the  harbour.  Monsieur 
had  been  bargaining  with  Ben  all  winter.  Ben 
took  us  to  the  north  with  Le  Borgne  for  inter- 
preter  " 

"  Does  Ben  know  you  are  here? " 

"  Not  as  Hortense!  I  was  dressed  as  a  page. 
Then  Le  Borgne  told  us  of  this  cave  and  mon- 
sieur plotted  to  lead  the  Indians  against  Ben, 
capture  the  fort  and  ship,  and  sail  away  with  all 
the  furs  for  himself.  Oh,  how  I  have  hated 
him!  "  she  exclaimed  with  a  sudden  impetuous 
stamp. 

Leaving  her  with  the  slaves,  I  took  Le 
Borgne  with  me  to  the  Habitation.  Here,  I  told 
all  to  M.  Radisson.  And  his  quick  mind  seized 
this,  too,  for  advantage. 

"  Precious  pearls,"  he  exclaims,  *'  but  'tis  a 
gift  of  the  gods! ' 

''  Sir?  " 

"  Pardieu,  Chouart;  listen  to  this,"  and  he 
tells  his  kinsman,  Groseillers. 

273 


HERALDS    OF    EMPIRE 

"  Why  not?  "  asks  Groseillers.  *'  You  mean 
to  send  her  to  Mary  Kirke?  " 

Mary  Kirke  was  Pierre  Radisson^s  wife,  who 
would  not  leave  the  English  to  go  to  him  when 
he  had  deserted  England  for  France. 

''  Sir  John  Kirke  is  director  of  the  English 
Company  now.  He  hath  been  knighted  by 
King  Charles.  Mary  and  Sir  John  will  present 
this  little  maid  at  the  English  court.  An  she  be 
not  a  nine  days'  wonder  there,  my  name  is  not 
Pierre  Radisson.  If  she's  a  court  ward,  some  of 
the  crew  must  take  care  of  her." 

Groseillers  smiled.  ''  An  the  French  reward 
us  not  well  for  this  winter's  work,  that  little 
maid  may  open  a  door  back  to  England;  eh, 
kinsman?  " 

Twas  the  same  gamestering  spirit  carrying 
them  through  all  hazard  that  now  led  them  to 
prepare  for  fresh  partnership,  lest  France  played 
false.  And  as  history  tells,  France  played  ver}' 
false  indeed. 


274 


CHAPTER    XXII 

WE    LEAVE   THE    NORTH    SEA 

So  Sieur  Radisson  must  fit  out  a  royal  flotilla 
to  carry  Mistress  Hortense  to  the  French  Habi- 
tation. And  gracious  acts  are  like  the  gift  horse: 
you  must  not  look  them  in  the  mouth.  For  the 
same  flotilla  that  brought  Hortense  brought  all 
M.  Picot's  hoard  of  furs.  Coming  down  the 
river,  lying  languidly  back  among  the  peltries 
of  the  loaded  canoe,  Hortense,  I  mind,  turned 
to  me  with  that  honest  look  of  hers  and  asked 
why  Sieur  Radisson  sent  to  fetch  her  in  such 
royal  state. 

"  I  am  but  a  poor  beggar  like  your  little 
Jack  Battle,"  she  protested. 

I  told  her  of  >\I.  Radisson's  plans  for  entrance 
to  the  English  court,  and  the  fire  that  flashed  to 
her  eyes  was  like  his  own. 

'*  Must  a  woman  ever  be  a  cat's-paw  to  man's 
ambitions?  "  she  asked,  with  a  gleam  of  the  dark 
lights.  *'  Oh,  the  wilderness  is  different,"  says 
Hortense  with  a  sigh.    "  In  the  wild  land,  each 

2;s 


HERALDS   OF   EMPIRE 

is  for  its  own!  Oh,  I  love  it!  "  she  adds,  with  a 
sudden  lighting  of  the  depths  in  her  eyes. 

-  Love— what?  " 

"  The  wilderness,"  says  Hortense.  "  It  is 
hard,  but  it's  free  and  it's  pure  and  it's  true  and 
it's  strong!  " 

And  she  sat  back  among  the  pillows. 

When  we  shot  through  racing  rapids — ''  sau- 
ter  les  rapides,"  as  our  French  voyageurs  say — 
she  sat  up  all  alert  and  laughed  as  the  spray 
splashed  athwart.  Old  Allemand,  the  pilot, 
who  was  steersman  on  this  canoe,  forgot  the  ill- 
humour  of  his  gin  thirst,  and  proffered  her  a 
paddle. 

"  Here,  pretty  thing,"  says  he,  "  try  a  stroke 
yourself!  " 

And  to  the  old  curmudgeon's  surprise  she 
took  it  with  a  joyous  laugh,  and  paddled  half 
that  day. 

Bethink  you  who  know  what  warm  hearts 
beat  inside  rough  buckskin  whether  those  voy- 
ageurs were  her  slaves  or  no!  The  wind  was 
blowing;  Mistress  Hortense's  hair  tossed  in  a 
way  to  make  a  man  swear  (vows,  not  oaths),  and 
Allemand  said  that  I  paddled  worse  than  any 
green  hand  of  a  first  week.  At  the  Habitation 
we  disembarked  after  nightfall  to  conceal  our 
movements  from  the  English.    After  her  arrival, 

276 


WE    LEAVE    THE   NORTH    SEA 

none  of  us  caught  a  glimpse  of  Mistress  Hor- 
tense  except  of  a  Sunday  at  noon,  but  of  her 
presence  there  was  proof  enough.  Did  voices 
grow  loud  in  the  mess-room?  A  hand  was 
raised.  Some  one  pointed  to  the  far  door,  and 
the  voices  fell.  Did  a  fellow's  tales  slip  an  oath 
or  two?  There  was  a  hush.  Some  one's  thumb 
jerked  significantly  shoulderwise  to  the  door, 
and  the  story-teller  leashed  his  oats  for  a  more 
convenient  season. 

''  Oh,  lordy,"  taunts  an  Enghsh  prisoner  out 
on  parole  one  day,  ''  any  angels  from  kingdom 
come  that  you  Frenchies  keep  meek  as  lambs?  " 

Allemand,  not  being  able  to  explain,  knocked 
the  fellow  flat. 

It  would  scarce  have  been  human  nature  had 
not  some  of  the  rufHans  uttered  slurs  on  the  ori- 
gin of  such  an  one  as  Hortense  found  in  so 
strange  a  case.  The  mind  that  feedeth  on  car- 
rion ever  goeth  with  the  large  mouth,  and  for  the 
cleansing  of  such  natures  I  wot  there  is  no  bet- 
ter physic  than  our  crew  gave  those  gossips. 
What  the  sailors  did  I  say  not.  Enough  that 
broken  heads  were  bound  by  our  chirurgeon  for 
the  rest  of  the  week. 

That  same  chirurgeon  advised  a  w^alk  outside 
the  fort  walls  for  ]Mistress  Hillary's  health.  By 
the  goodness  of  Providence,  the  duty  of  escort- 

2/7 


HERALDS    OF    EMPIRE 

ing  her  fell  to  me.  Attended  by  the  blackamoor 
and  a  soldier,  with  a  musket  across  my  shoulder, 
I  led  her  out  of  a  rear  sally-port  and  so  avoided 
the  scenes  of  drunkenness  among  the  Indians  at 
the  main  gate.  We  got  into  hiding  of  a  thick- 
et, but  boisterous  shouting  came  from  the  In- 
dian encampment.  I  glanced  at  Hortense.  She 
was  clad  in  a  green  hunting-suit,  and  by  the 
light  of  the  setting  sun  her  face  shone  radiant. 

*'  You  are  not  afraid?  " 

A  flush  of  sheer  delight  in  life  flooded  her 
cheeks. 

"  Afraid?  "  she  laughed. 

''Hortense!  Hortense!  Do  you  not  hear 
the  drunken  revel?  Do  you  know  what  it 
means?  This  world  is  full  of  what  a  maid  must 
fear.     'Tis  her  fear  protects  her." 

''Ah?"  asks  Hortense. 

And  she  opened  the  tight-clasped  hunting- 
cloak.  A  Spanish  poniard  hung  against  the 
inner  folds. 

"  'Tis  her  courage  must  protect  her.  The 
wilderness  teaches  that,"  says  Hortense,  "  the 
wilderness  and  men  like  Picot." 

Then  we  clasped  hands  and  ran  like  children 
from  thicket  to  rock  and  rock  to  the  long 
stretches  of  shingly  shore.  Behind  came  the 
blackamoor  and  the  soldier.    The  salt  spray  flew 

278 


WE    LEAVE   THE    NORTH    SEA 

in  our  faces,  the  wind  through  our  hair;  and  in 
our  hearts,  a  joy  untold.  Where  a  great  obelisk 
of  rock  thrust  across  the  way,  Hortense  halt- 
ed. She  stood  on  the  lee  side  of  the  rock  fanning 
herself  with  her  hat. 

"  Now  you  are  the  old  Hortense!  " 

"'  I  am  older,  hundreds  of  years  older," 
laughed  Hortense. 

The  westering  sun  and  the  gold  light  of  the 
sea  and  the  caress  of  a  spring  wind  be  perilous 
setting  for  a  fair  face.  I  looked  and  looked 
again. 

*'  Hortense,  should  an  oath  to  the  dead  bind 
the  living?  " 

''  If  it  was  right  to  take  the  oath,  yes,"  said 
Hortense. 

"  Hortense,  I  may  never  see  you  alone  again. 
I  promised  to  treat  you  as  I  would  treat  a 
sister " 

''  But — "  interrupts  Hortense. 

Footsteps  were  approaching  along  the  sand. 
I  thought  only  of  the  blackamoor  and  soldier. 

*'  I  promised  to  treat  you  as  I  would  a  sister 
— but  what — Hortense?  " 

''  But — but  I  didn't  promise  to  treat  you  as  I 
would  a  brother " 

Then  a  voice  from  the  other  side  of  the  rock: 
"  Devil  sink  my  soul  to  the  bottom  of  the  sea  if 

279 


HERALDS    OF    EMPIRE 

that  viper  Frenchman  hasn't  all  our  furs  packed 
away  in  his  hold!  " 

Then — "  A  pox  on  him  for  a  meddle- 
some— "  the  voice  fell. 

Then  Ben  Gillam  again:  "Shiver  my  soul! 
Let  'im  set  sail,  I  say!  Aren't  you  and  me  to  be 
shipped  on  a  raft  for  the  English  fort  at  the  foot 
o' the  bay?" 

''We'll  send  'em  all  to  the  bottom'©'  hell 
first." 

"  An  you  give  the  word,  all  my  men  will 
rise!" 

'*'  Capture  the  fort — risk  the  ships — butcher 
the  French!" 

Hortense  raised  her  hand  and  pointed  along 
the  shore.  Our  two  guards  were  lumbering  up 
and  would  presently  betray  our  presence.  Steal- 
ing forward  we  motioned  their  silence.  I  sent 
both  to  listen  behind  the  rock,  while  Hortense 
and  I  struck  into  cover  of  the  thicket  to  regain 
the  fort. 

"  Do  not  fear,"  said  I.  ''  M.  Radisson  has 
kept  the  prisoners  in  hand.  He  will  snuit  this 
pretty  conspiracy  out  before  Brigdar  and  Ben 
get  their  heads  apart." 

She  gave  that  flitting  look  which  laughs  at 
fear  and  hastened  on.  We  could  not  go  back  as 
we  had  come  without  exposing  ourselves  to  the 

2S0 


WE    LEAVE   THE    NORTH    SEA 

two  conspirators,  and  our  course  lay  nearer  the 
Indian  revel.  About  a  mile  from  the  fort  Hor- 
tense  stopped  short.  Through  the  underbrush 
crawled  two  braves  with  their  eyes  leering  at  us. 

*'  Hortense,"  I  urged,  '*  run  for  the  rear  gate! 
I'll  deal  with  these  two  alone.  There  may  be 
more!     Run,  my  dear!" 

''  Give  me  your  musket,"  she  said,  never  tak- 
ing her  eyes  from  the  savages. 

Wondering  not  a  little  at  the  request,  I  hand- 
ed her  the  weapon. 

''  Now  run,"  I  begged,  for  a  sand  crane 
flapped  up  where  the  savages  had  prowled  a 
pace  nearer. 

Quick  as  it  rose  Hortense  aimed.  There  was 
a  pufT  of  smoke.  The  bird  fell  shot  at  the  sav- 
ages' feet,  and  the  miscreants  scudded  off  in 
terror. 

''That  was  better,"  said  Hortense,  ''you 
would  have  killed  a  man." 

In  vain  I  urged  her  to  hasten  back.  She 
walked. 

"  You  know  it  may  be  the  last  time,"  she 
laughed,  mocking  my  grave  air  of  the  beach. 

"  Hortense — Hortense — how  am  I  to  keep  a 
promise?  " 

But  she  did  not  answer  a  word  till  we  reached 
the  sally-port.     There  she  turned  with  a  brave 

281 


HERALDS   OF    EMPIRE 

enough  look  till  her  eyes  met  mine,  when  all  was 

the  confusion  that  men  give  their  lives  to  win. 

"  Yes — yes — keep  your  promise.    If  you  had 

not  come,  I  had  died;  if  I  had  not  come,  you 

had  died.    Let  us  keep  faith  with  truth,  for  that's 

keeping  faith  with  God — and — and — God  bless 

you,"  she  whispered  brokenly,  and  she  darted 

through  the  gate. 

•  •••»• 

And  the  next  morning  we  embarked,  young 
Jean  Groseillers  remaining  with  ten  Frenchmen 
to  hold  the  fort;  Brigdar  and  Ben  aboard  our 
ship  instead  of  going  to  the  English  at  the  foot 
of  the  bay;  half  the  prisoners  under  hatches 
in  M.  Groseillers's  ship;  the  other  half  sent 
south  on  the  raft — a  plan  which  effectually 
stopped  that  conspiracy  of  Ben's.  Not  one 
glimpse  of  our  fair  passenger  had  we  on  all  that 
voyage  south,  for  what  with  Ben's  oaths  and 
Governor  Brigdar's  drinking,  the  cabin  was  no 
place  for  Hortense. 

At  Isle  Percee,  entering  the  St.  Lawrence,  lay 
a  messenger  from  La  Chesnaye's  father  with  a 
missive  that  bore  ill  news. 

M.  de  la  Barre,  the  new  governor,  had  or- 
dered our  furs  confiscated  because  we  had  gone 
north  without  a  license,  and  La  Chesnaye  had 
thriftily  rigged  up  this  ship  to  send  half  our  car- 

282 


WE    LEAVE   THE    NORTH    SEA 

go  across  to  France  before  the  Farmers  of  the 
Revenue  could  get  their  hands  upon  it.  It  was 
this  gave  rise  to  the  slander  that  M.  de  Radisson 
ran  off  with  half  La  Chesnaye's  furs — which  the 
records  de  la  marine  will  disprove,  if  you  search 
them. 

On  this  ship  with  her  blackamoors  sailed 
Mistress  Hortense,  bearing  letters  to  Sir  John 
Kirke,  director  of  the  Hudson's  Bay  Company 
and  father  of  M.  Radisson's  wife. 

'•'  Now  praise  be  Heaven,  that  little  ward 
will  open  the  way  for  us  in  England,  Chouart," 
said  M.  de  Radisson,  as  he  moodily  Hstened  to 
news  of  the  trouble  abrewing  in  Quebec. 

And  all  the  way  up  the  St.  Lawrence,  as  the 
rolling  tide  lapped  our  keel,  I  w'as  dreaming  of  a 
far,  cold  paleocrystic  sea,  mystic  in  the  frost- 
clouds  that  lay  over  it  like  smoke.  Then  a  figure 
emerged  from  the  white  darkness.  I  was 
snatched  up,  with  the  northern  lights  for  char- 
iot, two  blazing  comets  our  steeds,  and  the  north 
star  a  charioteer. 


19  28  3 


PART   III 


CHAPTER    XXIII 

A   CHANGE    OF    PARTNERS 

Old  folks  are  wont  to  repeat  themselves, 
but  that  is  because  they  would  impress  those 
garnered  lessons  which  age  no  longer  has 
strength  to  drive  home  at  one  blow. 

Royalist  and  Puritan,  each  had  his  lesson  to 
learn,  as  I  said  before.  Each  marked  the  pendu- 
lum swing  to  a  wrong  extreme,  and  the  pendu- 
lum was  beating  time  for  your  younger  genera- 
tions to  march  by.  And  so  I  say  to  you  who 
are  wiser  by  the  follies  of  your  fathers,  look  not 
back  too  scornfully;  for  he  who  is  ever  watching 
to  mock  at  the  tripping  of  other  men's  feet  is  like 
to  fall  over  a  very  small  stumbling-block  him- 
self. 

Alreadv  have  I  told  you  of  holy  men  who 
would  gouge  a  man's  eye  out  for  the  extraction 
of  one  small  bean,  and  counted  burnings  hfe  s 
highest  joy,  and  held  the  body  accursed  as  a  nec- 
essary evil  for  the  tabernacling  of  the  soul. 
Now  must  I  tell  you  of  those  who  wantoned  "  in 

287 


HERALDS    OF    EMPIRE 

the  lust  of  the  flesh  and  the  lust  of  the  eye  and 
the  pride  of  Hfe,"  who  burned  their  Hves  out  at  a 
shrine  of  folly,  and  who  held  that  the  soul  and 
all  things  spiritual  had  gone  out  of  fashion  ex- 
cept for  the  making  of  vows  and  pretty  conceits 
in  verse  by  a  lover  to  his  lady. 

For  Pierre  Radisson's  fears  of  France  play- 
ing false  proved  true.  Bare  had  our  keels 
bumped  through  that  forest  of  sailing  craft, 
which  ever  swung  to  the  tide  below  Quebec  fort, 
when  a  company  of  young  cadets  marches  down 
from  the  Castle  St.  Louis  to  escort  us  up  to  M. 
de  la  Barre,  the  new  governor. 

''  Hm,"  says  ]\I.  Radisson,  looking  in  his 
half-savage  buckskins  a  wild  enough  figure 
among  all  those  young  jacks-in-a-box  with  their 
gold  lace  and  steel  breastplates.  *'  Hm — let  the 
governor  come  to  us!  An  you  will  not  go  to  a 
man,  a  man  must  come  to  you!  " 

"  I  am  indisposed,"  says  he  to  the  cadets. 
''  Let  the  governor  come  to  me." 

And  come  he  did,  with  a  company  of  troops 
fresh  out  from  France  and  a  roar  of  cannon 
from  the  ramparts  that  was  more  for  the  frighten- 
ing than  welcoming  of  us. 

M.  de  Radisson  bade  us  answer  the  salute  by 
a  firing  of  muskets  in  mid-air.  Then  we  all  let 
go  a  cheer  for  the  Governor  of  New  France. 

288 


A  CHANGE   OF   PARTNERS 

"  I  must  thank  Your  Excellency  for  the  wel- 
come sent  down  by  your  cadets,"  says  M.  de  Ra- 
disson,  meeting  the  governor  half-way  across  the 

M    de  la  Barre,  an  iron-gray  man  past  the 
prime  of  life,  gave  spare  smile  in  answer  to 

^  ^^■''  I  bade  my  cadets  request  you  to  report  at 
the  castle,"  says  he,  with  a  hard  wrinkhng  of  the 
lines  round  his  lips. 

"  I  bade  your  fellows  report  that  I  was  mdis- 

^°'''  Did  the  north  not  agree  with  Sieur  Radis- 
son?  "  asks  the  governor  dryly.  ^ 

u  Pardieu!— yes— better  than  the  air  of  Que- 
bec," retorts  M.  Radisson. 

By  this  the  eyes  of  the  listeners  were  agape, 
M  Radisson  not  budging  a  pace  to  go  ashore, 
the  governor  scarce  courting  rebufif  in  sight  of 

his  soldiers.  . 

"  Radisson,"  says  M.  de  la  Barre,  motiomng 
his  soldiers  back  and  following  to  our  captain  s 
cabin,  "  a  fellow  was  haltered  and  ^whipped  for 
disrespect  to  the  bishop  yesterday!  " 

"  Fortunately,"  says  ^I.  Radisson,  touching 
the  hilt  of  his  rapier,  "gentlemen  settle  differ- 
ences in  a  simpler  way !  " 

They  had  entered  the  cabin,  where  Radisson 

289 


HERALDS    OF    EMPIRE 

bade  me  stand  guard  at  the  door,  and  at  our 
leader's  bravado  M.  de  la  Barre  saw  fit  to  throw 
off  all  disguise. 

''  Radisson,"  he  said,  "  those  who  trade  with- 
out license  are  sent  to  the  galleys " 

"  And  those  who  go  to  the  galleys  get  no 
more  furs  to  divide  with  the  Governor  of  New 
France,  and  the  governor  who  gets  no  furs  goes 
home  a  poor  man." 

M.  de  la  Barre's  sallow  face  wrinkled  again 
in  a  dry  laugh. 

*'  La  Chesnaye  has  told  you?  " 

"  La  Chesnaye's  son '' 

**  Have  the  ships  a  good  cargo?  They 
must  remain  here  till  our  officer  examines 
them." 

Which  meant  till  the  governor's  minions 
looted  both  vessels  for  His  Excellency's  profit. 
M.  Radisson,  who  knew  that  the  better  part  of 
the  furs  were  already  crossing  the  ocean,  nodded 
his  assent. 

"  But  about  these  English  prisoners,  of  whom 
La  Chesnaye  sent  word  from  Isle  Percee?  "  con- 
tinues the  governor. 

"  The  prisoners  matter  nothing — 'tis  their 
ship  has  value " 

"  She  must  go  back,"  interjects  M.  de  la 
Barre. 

290 


A   CHANGE    OF    PARTNERS 

''  Back?  "  exclaims  M.  Radisson. 

''  Why  didn't  you  sell  her  to  some  Spanish 
adventurer  before  you  came  here?  " 

"  Spanish  adventurer — Your  Excellency?  I 
am  no  butcher!  " 

"  Eh — man!"  says  the  governor,  tapping  the 
table  with  a  document  he  pulled  from  his  great- 
coat pocket  and  shrugging  his  shoulders  with  a 
deprecating  gesture  of  the  hands,  *'  if  her  crew 
feared  sharks,  they  should  have  defended  her 
against  capture.  Now — your  prize  must  go 
back  to  New  England  and  we  lose  the  profit! 
Here,"  says  he,  "  are  orders  from  the  king  and 
M.  Colbert  that  nothing  be  done  to  offend  the 
subjects  of  King  Charles  of  England " 

''  Which  means  that  Barillon,  the  French  am- 
bassador  ?  " 

M.  de  la  Barre  laid  his  finger  on  his  lips. 
''Walls  have  ears!  If  one  king  be  willing  to 
buy  and  another  to  sell  himself  and  his  country, 
loyal  subjects  have  no  comment,  Radisson."  * 

"Loyal  subjects!"  sneers  M.  de  Radis- 
son. 

"And  that  reminds  me,  M.  Colbert  orders 
Sieur  Radisson  to  present  himself  in  Paris  and 


*  The  reference  is  evidently  to  the  secret  treaty  by  which 
King  Charles  of  England  received  annual  payment  for  com- 
pliance with  King  Louis's  schemes  for  French  aggression. 

291 


HERALDS    OF    EMPIRE 

report  on  the  state  of  the  fur-trade  to  the 
king!  " 

"  Ramsay,"  said  M.  Radisson  to  me,  after 
Governor  la  Barre  had  gone,  "  this  is  some  new 
gamestering!  " 

**  Your  court  players  are  too  deep  for  me, 
sir!" 

"  Pish!  "  says  he  impatiently,  "  plain  as  day — 
we  must  sail  on  the  frigate  for  France,  or  they 
imprison  us  here — in  Paris  we  shall  be  kept  dan- 
gling by  promises,  hangers-on  and  do-nothings 
till  the  moneys  are  all  used — then " 

"  Then— sir?  " 

"  Then,  active  men  are  dangerous  men,  and 
dangerous  men  may  lie  safe  and  quiet  in  the 
sponging-house!  " 

"  Do  we  sail  in  that  case?  " 

"  Egad,  yes!  Why  not?  Keep  your  colours 
flying  and  you  may  sail  into  hell,  man,  and  con- 
quer, too!  Yes — we  sail!  IMan  or  devil,  don't 
swerve,  lad!  Go  your  gait!  Go  your  gait! 
Chouart  here  will  look  after  the  ships!  Paris 
is  near  London,  and  praise  be  Providence  for 
that  little  maid  of  thine!  We  shall  presently 
have  letters  from  her  —  and,"  he  added, 
"  from  Sir  John  Kirke  of  the  Hudson's  Bay 
Company!  " 

And  it  was  even  as  he  foretold.     I  find,  on 

292 


A   CHANGE    OF    PARTNERS 

looking  over  the  tattered  pages  of  a  handbook, 
these  notes: 

Oct.  6. — Ben  Gillam  and  Governor  Brigdar 
this  day  sent  back  to  New  England.  There  will 
be  great  complaints  against  us  in  the  English 
court  before  we  can  reach  London. 

Nov.  II. — Sailed  for  France  in  the  French 
frigate. 

Dec.  i8. — Reach  Rochelle — hear  of  M.  Col- 
bert's death. 

Jan.  50. — Paris — all  our  furs  seized  by  the 
French  Government  in  order  to  keep  M.  Radis- 
son  powerless — Lord  Preston,  the  English  am- 
bassador, complaining  against  us  on  the  one 
hand,  and  battering  our  doors  down  on  the 
other,  with  spies  offering  M.  Radisson  safe  pas- 
sage from  Paris  to  London. 

I  would  that  I  had  time  to  tell  you  of  that 
hard  winter  in  Paris,  ]\L  Radisson  week  by  week, 
like  a  fort  resisting  siege,  forced  to  take  cheaper 
and  cheaper  lodgings,  till  we  were  housed  be- 
tween an  attic  roof  and  creaking  rat-ridden  floor 
in  the  Faubourg  St.  Antoine.  But  not  one  jot 
did  ^L  Radisson  lose  of  his  kingly  bearing, 
though  he  went  to  some  fete  in  Versailles  with 
beaded  moccasins  and  frayed  plushes  and  tat- 
tered laces  and  hair  that  one  of  the  pretty  wits 
declared  the  birds  would  be  anesting  in  for  hay- 

293 


HERALDS   OF    EMPIRE 

coils.  In  that  Faubourg  St.  Antoine  house,  I 
mind,  we  took  grand  apartments  on  the  ground 
floor,  but  up  and  up  we  went,  till  M.  Radisson 
vowed  we'd  presently  be  under  the  stars — as  the 
French  say  when  they  are  homeless — unless  my 
Lord  Preston,  the  English  ambassador,  came  to 
our  terms. 

That  starving  of  us  for  surrender  was  only 
another  trick  of  the  gamestering  in  which  we 
were  enmeshed.  Had  Captain  Godey,  Lord 
Preston's  messenger,  succeeded  in  luring  us  back 
to  England  without  terms,  what  a  pretty  pickle 
had  ours  been!  France  would  have  set  a  price 
on  us.  Then  must  we  have  accepted  any  kick-of- 
toe  England  chose  to  offer — and  thanked  our 
new  masters  for  the  same,  else  back  to  France 
they  would  have  sent  us. 

But  attic  dwellers  stave  off  many  a  woe  with 
empty  stomachs  and  stout  courage.  When 
April  came,  boats  for  the  fur-trade  should  have 
been  stirring,  and  my  Lord  Preston  changes  his 
tune.  One  night,  when  Pierre  Radisson  sat 
spinning  his  yarns  of  captivity  with  Iroquois  to 
our  attic  neighbours,  comes  a  rap  at  the  door, 
and  in  walks  Captain  Godey  of  the  English  Em- 
bassy. As  soon  as  our  neighbours  had  gone,  he 
counts  out  one  hundred  gold  pieces  on  the  table. 
Then  he  hands  us  a  letter  signed  by  the  Duke  of 

294 


A   CHANGE    OF    PARTNERS 

York,  King  Charles's  brother,  who  was  Governor 
of  the  Hudson's  Bay  Company,  granting  us  all 
that  we  asked. 

Thereupon,  Pierre  Radisson  asks  leave  of  the 
French  court  to  seek  change  of  air;  but  the  coun- 
try air  we  sought  was  that  of  England  in  May, 
not  France,  as  the  court  inferred. 


295 


CHAPTER    XXIV 

UNDER   THE   ^GIS    OF   THE    COURT 

The  roar  of  London  was  about  us. 

Sign-boards  creaked  and  swung  to  every 
puff  of  wind.  Great  hackney-coaches,  sunk  at 
the  waist  like  those  old  gallipot  boats  of  ours, 
went  ploughing  past  through  the  mud  of  mid- 
road,  with  bepowdered  footmen  clinging  be- 
hind and  saucy  coachmen  perched  in  front. 
These  flunkeys  thought  it  fine  sport  to  splash  us 
passers-by,  or  beguiled  the  time  when  there  was 
stoppage  across  the  narrow  street  by  lashing 
rival  drivers  with  their  long  whips  and  knocking 
cock-hats  to  the  gutter.  'Prentices  stood  ring- 
ing their  bells  and  shouting  their  wares  at  every 
shop-door.  "  What  d'ye  lack?  What  d'ye 
lack?  What  d'ye  please  to  lack,  good  sirs? 
Walk  this  way  for  kerseys,  sayes,  and  perpetu- 
anoes!  Bands  and  ruffs  and  piccadillies!  W^alk 
this  way!     Walk  this  way!  " 

"  Pardieu,  lad!  "  says  M.  Radisson,  elbowing 
a  saucy  spark  from  the  wall  for  the  tenth  time  in 
as  many  paces.    *'  Pardieu,  you  can't  hear  your- 

296 


UNDER  THE  iEGIS  OF  THE  COURT 

self  think!  Shut  up  to  you!"  he  called  to  a 
bawling  'prentice  dressed  in  white  velvet  waist- 
coat like  a  showman's  dummy  to  exhibit  the 
fashion.     '''  Shut  up  to  you!  " 

And  I  heard  the  fellow  telling  his  comrades 
my  strange  companion  with  the  tangled  hair 
was  a  pirate  from  the  Barbary  States.  Another 
saucy  vender  caught  at  the  chance. 

"Perukes!  Perukes!  Newest  French  peri- 
wigs! "  he  shouts,  jangling  his  bell  and  putting 
himself  across  M.  Radisson's  course.  "  You'd 
please  to  lack  a  periwig,  sir!     Walk  this  way! 

Walk  this  way " 

"  Out  of  my  way!  "  orders  Radisson  with  a 
hiss  of  his  rapier  round  the  fellow's  fat  calves. 
''  'Tis  a  milliner's  doll  the  tow^n  makes  of  a  man! 
Out  of  my  way!  " 

And  the  'prentice  went  skipping.     We  were 
to  meet  the  directors  of  the  Hudson's  Bay  Com- 
pany that  night,  and  we  had  come  out  to  re- 
furbish our  scant,  wild  attire.     But  bare  had  we 
turned  the  corner  for  the  linen-draper's  shops  of 
Fleet  Street  when  ^I.  Radisson's  troubles  be- 
gan.   Idlers  eyed  us  with  strange  looks.    Huck- 
sters read  our  necessitous  state  and  ran  at  heel 
shouting  their  wares.     Shopmen  saw  needy  cus- 
tomers in  us  and  sent  their  'prentices  running. 
Chairmen  splashed  us  as  they  passed;  and  im- 

297 


HERALDS   OF   EMPIRE 

pudent  dandies  powdered  and  patched  and  laced 
and  bewigged  like  any  fizgig  of  a  girl  would 
have  elbowed  us  from  the  wall  to  the  gutter  for 
the  sport  of  seeing  M.  Radisson's  moccasins 
slimed. 

''  Egad,"  says  M.  Radisson,  "  an  I  spill  not 
some  sawdust  out  o'  these  dolls,  or  cut  their 
stay-strings,  may  the  gutter  take  us  for  good 
and  all!  Pardieu!  An  your  wig's  the  latest  fash- 
ion, the  wits  under  't  don't  matter " 

"  Have  a  care,  sir,"  I  warned,  ''  here  comes 
a  fellow!" 

'Twas  a  dandy  in  pink  of  fashion  with  a 
three-cornered  hat  coming  over  his  face  like 
a  waterspout,  red-cheeked  from  carminative 
and  with  the  high  look  in  his  eyes  of  one  who 
saw  common  folk  from  the  top  of  church  stee- 
ple. His  Hps  were  parted  enough  to  show  his 
teeth;  and  I  warrant  you  my  fine  spark  had 
posed  an  hour  at  the  looking-glass  ere  he  got  his 
neck  at  the  angle  that  brought  out  the  swell 
of  his  chest.  He  was  dressed  in  red  plush  with 
silk  hose  of  the  same  colour  and  a  square-cut, 
tailed  coat  out  of  whose  pockets  stuck  a  roll  of 
paper  missives. 

"  Verse  ready  WTit  by  some  penny-a-liner  for 
any  wench  with  cheap  smiles,"  says  M.  Radisson 

aloud. 

298 


UNDER  THE  JEGIS  OF  THE  COURT 

But  the  fellow  came  on  like  a  strutting  pea- 
cock with  his  head  in  air.  Behind  followed  his 
page  with  cloak  and  rapier.  In  one  hand  our 
dandy  carried  his  white  gloves,  in  the  other  a 
lace  gewgaw  heavy  with  musk,  which  he  flut- 
tered in  the  face  of  every  shopkeeper's  daughter. 

"  Give  the  wall  I  Give  the  wall!  "  cries  the 
page.  ''  Give  the  wall  to  Lieutenant  Blood  o' 
the  Tower!  " 

"  S'blood,"  says  M.  Radisson  insolently, 
*'  let  us  send  that  snipe  sprawling!  " 

At  that  was  a  mighty  awakening  on  the  part 
of  my  fine  gentleman. 

**  Blood  is  my  name,"  says  he.  *'  Step 
aside!  " 

''  An  Blood  is  its  name,"  retorts  ^I.  Ra- 
disson, "  'tis  bad  blood;  and  I've  a  mind  to  let 
some  of  it,  unless  the  thing  gets  out  of  my 
way!" 

With  which  M.  Radisson  whips  out  his 
sword,  and  mv  sfrand  beau  condescends  to  look 
at  us. 

*•'  Bov,"  he  commands.  '''  call  an  ofHcer!  " 

"  Boy,"  shouts  !M.  Radisson,  "  call  a  chirur- 
geon  to  mend  its  toes!  "  and  his  blade  cut  a 
swath  across  the  dandy's  shining  pumps. 

At  that  was  a  jump! 

Whatever  the  beaux  of  King  Charles's  court 
20  299 


HERALDS    OF    EMPIRE 

may  have  been,  they  were  not  cowards!  Grasp- 
ing his  sword  from  the  page,  the  fellow  made  at 
us.  What  with  the  lashing  of  the  coachmen 
riding  post-haste  to  see  the  fray,  the  jostling 
chairmen  calling  out  "  A  fight!  A  fight!  "  and 
the  'prentices  yelling  at  the  top  of  their  voices 
for  "A  watch!  A  watch!"  we  had  had  it  hot 
enough  then  and  there  for  M.  Radisson's  sport; 
but  above  the  melee  sounded  another  shrill 
alarm,  the  "  Gardez  I'eau!  Gardy  loo!  "  of  some 
French  kitchen  wench  throwing  her  breakfast 
slops  to  mid-road  from  the  dwelling  overhead.* 

Only  on  the  instant  had  I  jerked  M.  Radis- 
son  back;  and  down  they  came — dish-water — 
and  coffee  leavings — and  porridge  scraps  full  on 
the  crown  of  my  fine  young  gentleman,  drench- 
ing his  gay  attire  as  it  had  been  soaked  in  soap- 
suds of  a  week  old.  Something  burst  from  his 
lips  a  deal  stronger  than  the  modish  French 
oaths  then  in  vogue.  There  was  a  shout  from 
the  rabble.  I  dragged  rather  than  led  M.  Ra- 
disson  pell-mell  into  a  shop  from  front  to  rear, 
over  a  score  of  garden  walls,  and  out  again  from 
rear  to  front,  so  that  we  gave  the  slip  to  all  those 
officers  now  running  for  the  scene  of  the  broil. 

''  Egad's  life,"  cried  M.  de  Radisson,  laugh- 

*  The   old   expression   which   the   law  compelled   before 
throwing  slops  in  mid-street. 

300 


UNDER  THE  MGIS  OF  THE  COURT 

ing  and  laughing,  '"tis  the  narrowest  escape 
I've  ever  had!  Pardieu— to  escape  the  north  sea 
and  drown  in  dish-water!  Lord— to  beat  devils 
and  be  snuffed  out  by  a  wench  in  petticoats! 
'Tis  the  martyrdom  of  heroes!       What  a  tale 

for  the  court!  " 

And  he  laughed  and  laughed  again  till  I 
must  needs  call  a  chair  to  get  him  away  from 
onlookers.  In  the  shop  of  a  draper  a  thought 
struck  him. 

''  Egad,  lad,  that  young  blade  was  Blood!  " 

"  So  he  told  you." 

"  Did  he?  Son  of  the  Blood  who  stole  the 
crown  ten  years  ago,  and  got  your  own  Stan- 
hope lands  in  reward  from  the  king!  " 

What  memories  were  his  words  bringing 
back? — M.  Picot  in  the  hunting-room  telling 
me  of  Blood,  the  freebooter  and  swordsman. 
And  that  brings  me  to  the  real  reason  for  our 
plundering  the  Hnen-drapers'  shops  before  pre- 
senting ourselves  at  Sir  John  Kirke's  mansion  in 
Drury  Lane,  where  gentlemen  with  one  eye 
cocked  on  the  doings  of  the  nobility  in  the  west 
and  the  other  keen  for  city  trade  were  wont  to 
live  in  those  days. 

For  six  years  M.  Radisson  had  not  seen  Mis- 
tress Mary  Kirke— as  his  wife  styled  herself 
after  he  broke  from  the  English — and  I  had  not 

301 


HERALDS    OF    EMPIRE 

heard  one  word  of  Hortense  for  nigh  as  many 
months.  Say  what  you  will  of  the  dandified 
dolls  who  wasted  half  a  day  before  the  looking- 
glass  in  the  reign  of  Charles  Stuart,  there  are 
times  when  the  bravest  of  men  had  best  look 
twice  in  the  glass  ere  he  set  himself  to  the  task 
of  conquering  fair  eyes.  We  did  not  drag  our 
linen  through  a  scent  bath  nor  loll  all  morning 
in  the  hands  of  a  man  milliner  charged  with  the 
duty  of  turning  us  into  showmen's  dummies — - 
as  was  the  way  of  young  sparks  in  that  age. 

But  that  was  how  I  came  to  buy  yon  mon- 
strous wig  costing  forty  guineas  and  weighing 
ten  pounds  and  coming  half-way  to  a  man's 
waist.  And  you  may  set  it  down  to  M.  Radis- 
son's  credit  that  he  went  with  his  wiry  hair  fly- 
ing wild  as  a  lion's  mane.  Nothing  I  could  say 
would  make  him  exchange  his  Indian  moccasins 
for  the  high-heeled  pumps  with  a  buckle  at  the 
instep. 

"  I  suppose,"  he  had  conceded  grudgingly, 
"  we  must  have  a  brat  to  carry  swords  and 
cloaks  for  us,  or  we'll  be  taken  for  some  o'  your 
cheap-jack  hucksters  parading  latest  fashions," 
and  he  bade  our  host  of  the  Star  and  Garter 
have  some  lad  searched  out  for  us  by  the  time 
we  should  be  coming  home  from  Sir  John 
Kirke's  that  night. 

^02 


UNDER  THE  lEGlS  OF  THE  COURT 

A  mighty  personage  with  fat  chops  and 
ruddy  cheeks  and  rounded  waistcoat  and  pad- 
ded calves  received  us  at  the  door  of  Sir  John 
Kirke's  house  in  Drury  Lane.  Sir  John  was  not 
yet  back  from  the  Exchange,  this  grand  fellow 
loftily  informed  us  at  the  entrance  to  the  house. 
A  glance  told  him  that  we  had  neither  page-boy 
nor  private  carriage;  and  he  half-shut  the  door 
in  our  faces. 

"  Now  the  devil  take  this  thing  for  a  half- 
baked,  back-stairs,  second-hand  kitchen  gentle- 
man," hissed  M.  Radisson,  pushing  in.  *'  Here, 
my  fine  fellow,"  says  he  with  a  largesse  of  vails 
his  purse  could  ill  afford,  *'  here,  you  sauce- 
pans, go  tell  Madame  Radisson  her  husband  is 
here!" 

I  have  always  held  that  the  vulgar  like  inso- 
lence nigh  as  well  as  silver;  and  Sieur  Radisson's 
air  sent  the  feet  of  the  kitchen  steward  pattering. 
"  Confound  him! "  muttered  Radisson,  as  we 
both  went  stumbling  over  footstools  into  the 
dark  of  Sir  John's  great  drawing-room,  "  Con- 
found him!  An  a  man  treats  a  man  as  a  man  in 
these  stuffed  match-boxes  o'  towns,  looking 
man  as  a  man  on  the  level  square  in  the  eye,  he 
only  gets  himself  slapped  in  the  face  for  it!  An 
there's  to  be  any  slapping  in  the  face,  be  the 
first  to  do  it,  boy!    A  man's  a  man  by  the  meas- 

303 


HERALDS    OF    EMPIRE 

tire  of  his  stature  in  the  wilderness.     Here,  'tis 
by  the  measure  of  his  clothes " 

But  a  great  rustling  of  flounced  petticoats 
down  the  hallway  broke  in  on  his  speech,  and  a 
little  lady  had  jumped  at  me  with  a  cry  of 
''Pierre,  Pierre!"  when  M.  Radisson's  long 
arms  caught  her  from  her  feet. 

"  You  don't  even  remember  what  your  own 
husband  looked  Hke,"  said  he.  ''Ah,  Mary, 
Mary — don't  dear  me!  I'm  only  dear  when  the 
court  takes  me  up!  But,  egad,"  says  he,  setting 
her  down  on  her  feet,  "you  may  wager  these 
pretty  ringlets  of  yours,  I'm  mighty  dear  for  the 
gilded  crew  this  time!  " 

Madame  Radisson  said  she  was  glad  of  it; 
for  when  Pierre  was  rich  they  could  take  a  fine 
house  in  the  West  End  like  my  Lord  So-and-So; 
but  in  the  next  breath  she  begged  him  not  to 
call  the  Royalists  a  gilded  crew. 

"  And  who  is  this?  "  she  asked,  turning  to 
me  as  the  ser\'ants  brought  in  candles. 

"  Egad,  and  you  might  have  asked  that  be- 
fore you  tried  to  kiss  him!  You  always  did  have 
a  pretty  choice,  Mary!  I  knew  it  when  you  took 
me!    That,"  says  he,  pointing  to  me,  "  that  is  the 

kite's  tail!" 

"But  for  convenience' sake. perhaps  the  kite's 
tail  may  have  a  name,"  retorts  Madame  Radisson. 

304 


UNDER  THE  lEGlS  OF  THE  COURT 

"  To  be  sure — to  be  sure — Stanhope,  a 
vouno;  Rovalist  kinsman  of  vours." 

'*'  Royalist?  "  reiterates  Alary  Kirke  with  a 
world  of  meaning  to  the  high-keyed  question, 
**  then  my  welcome  was  no  mistake!  Welcome 
waits  Royalists  here,"  and  she  gave  me  her  hand 
to  kiss  just  as  an  elderly  woman  with  monster 
white  ringlets  all  about  her  face  and  bejewelled 
fingers  and  bare  shoulders  and  flowing  draperies 
swept  into  the  room,  followed  by  a  serving-maid 
and  a  page-boy.  A\^ith  the  aid  of  two  men,  her 
daughter,  a  ser\'ing-maid.  and  the  page,  it  took 
her  all  of  five  minutes  by  the  clock  to  get  her- 
self seated.  But  when  her  slippered  feet  were 
on  a  Persian  rug  and  the  displaced  ringlets  of 
her  monster  wig  adjusted  by  the  waiting  abigail 
and  smelling-salts  put  on  a  marquetr}^  table  near- 
by and  the  folds  of  the  gown  righted  by  the 
page-boy,  Lady  Kirke  extended  a  hand  to  re- 
ceive our  compliments.  I  mind  she  called  Ra- 
disson  her  ''  dear,  sweet  savage,"  and  bade  him 
have  a  care  not  to  squeeze  the  stones  of  her 
rings  into  the  flesh  of  her  fingers. 

"  As  if  any  man  would  want  to  squeeze  such 
a  ragbag  o'  tawdrv-  finery  and  milliners'  tinsel," 
said  Radisson  afterward  to  me. 

I,  being  younger,  was  "  a  dear,  bold  fellow," 
with  a  tap  of  her  fan  to  the  words  and  a  look 

305 


HERALDS   OF   EMPIRE 

over  the  top  of  it  like  to  have  come  from  some 
saucy  jade  of  sixteen. 

After  which  the  serv^ing-maid  must  hand  the 
smelling-sahs  and  the  page-boy  haste  to  stroke 
out  her  train. 

"  Egad,"  says  Radisson  when  my  lady  had 
informed  us  that  Sir  John  would  await  Sieur 
Radisson's  coming  at  the  Fur  Company's  offices, 
"  egad,  there'll  be  no  getting  Ramsay  away  till 
he  sees  some  one  else!  " 

''And  who  is  that?"  simpers  Lady  Kirke, 
languishing  behind  her  fan. 

"  Who,  indeed,  but  the  little  maid  we  sent 
from  the  north  sea." 

''  La,"  cries  Lady  Kirke  with  a  sudden  liven- 
ing, "  an  you  always  do  as  well  for  us  all,  we  can 
forgive  you,  Pierre!  The  courtiers  have  cried 
her  up  and  cried  her  up,  till  your  pretty  savage 
of  the  north  sea  is  like  to  become  the  first  lady 
of  the  land!  Sir  John  comes  home  with  your 
letter  to  me — boy,  the  smelling-salts! — so! — 
and  I  say  to  him,  '  Sir  John,  take  the  story  to 
His  Royal  Highness! '  Good  lack,  Pierre,  no 
sooner  hath  the  Duke  of  York  heard  the  tale 
than  off  he  goes  with  it  to  King  Charles!  His 
Majesty  hath  an  eye  for  a  pretty  baggage.  Oh, 
I  promise  you,  Pierre,  you  have  done  finely  for 
us  all!" 

306 


UNDER  THE  JEGIS  OF  THE  COURT 

And  the  lady  must  simper  and  smirk  and  tap 
Pierre  Radisson  with  her  fan,  with  a  glimmer  of 
ill-meaning  through  her  winks  and  nods  that 
might  have  brought  the  blush  to  a  woman's 
cheeks  in  Commonwealth  days. 

"  Madame,"  cried  Pierre  Radisson  with  his 
eyes  ablaze,  *'  that  sweet  child  came  to  no  harm 
or  wrong  among  our  wilderness  of  savages!  An 
she  come  to  harm  in  a  Christian  court,  by 
Heaven,  somebody'll  answer  me  for't!  " 

''  Lackaday!  Hoighty-toighty,  Pierre!  How 
you  stamp!  The  black-eyed  monkey  hath  been 
named  maid  of  honour  to  Queen  Catherine! 
How  much  better  could  we  have  done  for  her?  " 

"  Maid  of  honour  to  the  lonely  queen?  "  says 
Radisson.     ''That  is  well!" 

"  She  is  ward  of  the  court  till  a  husband  be 
found  for  her,"  continues  Lady  Kirke. 

"  There  will  be  plenty  willing  to  be  found," 
says  Pierre  Radisson,  looking  me  wondrous 
straight  in  the  eye. 

"  Not  so  sure — not  so  sure,  Pierre!  We 
catch  no  glimpse  of  her  nowadays;  but  they  say 
young  Lieutenant  Blood  o'  the  Tower  shadows 
the  court  wherever  she  is " 

"  A  well-dressed  young  man?  "  adds  Radis- 
son, winking  at  me. 

'*  And  carries  himself  with  a  grand  air,"  am- 

307 


HERALDS    OF    EMPIRE 

plifies  my  lady,  puffing  out  her  chest,  "  but  then, 
Pierre,  when  it  comes  to  the  point,  your  pretty 
wench  hath  no  dower — no  property " 

"Heaven  be  praised  for  that!"  burst  from 
my  Hps. 

At  which  there  was  a  sudden  silence,  fol- 
lowed by  sudden  laughter  to  my  confusion. 

"  And  so  Master  Stanhope  came  seeking  the 
bird  that  had  flown,"  twitted  Radisson's  mother- 
in-law.  "  Faugh — faugh — to  have  had  the  bird 
in  his  hand  and  to  let  it  go!  But — ta-ta!  "  she 
laughed,  tapping  my  arm  with  her  fan,  "'  some 
one  else  is  here  who  keeps  asking  and  asking  for 
Master  Stanhope.  Boy,"  she  ordered,  '*  tell  thy 
master's  guest  to  come  down!  " 

Two  seconds  later  entered  little  Rebecca  of 
Boston  Town.  Blushing  pink  as  apple-blos- 
soms, dressed  demurely  as  of  old,  with  her 
glances  playing  a  shy  hide-and-seek  under  the 
downcast  lids,  she  seemed  as  alien  to  the  arti- 
ficial grandeur  about  her  as  meadow  violets  to 
the  tawdry  splendour  of  a  flower-dyer's  shop. 

"  Fie,  fie,  sly  ladybird,"  called  out  Sir  John's 
wife,  **  here  are  friends  of  yours!  " 

At  sight  of  us,  she  uttered  a  little  gasp  of 
pleasure. 

"  So — so — so  joysome  to  see  Boston  folk," 
she  stammered. 

308 


UNDER  THE  iEGIS  OF  THE  COURT 

^'Fie,  fie!"  laughed  Lady  Kirke.  ''Doth 
Boston  air  bring  red  so  quick  to  all  faces?  " 

**  If  they  be  not  painted  too  deep."  said 
Pierre  Radisson  loud  and  distinct.  And  I  doubt 
not  the  coquettish  old  dame  blushed  red,  though 
the  depth  of  paint  hid  it  from  our  eyes;  for  she 
held  her  tongue  long  enough  for  me  to  lead 
Rebecca  to  an  alcove  window. 

Some  men  are  born  to  jump  in  sudden-made 
gaps.  Such  an  one  was  Pierre  Radisson;  for  he 
set  himself  between  his  wife  and  Lady  Kirke, 
where  he  kept  them  achattering  so  fast  they  had 
no  time  to  note  little  Rebecca's  unmasked  con- 
fusion. 

"  This  is  an  unexpected  pleasure,  Rebecca!  '* 

She  glanced  up  as  if  to  question  me. 

"  Your  fine  gallants  have  so  many  fine 
speeches " 

''  Have  you  been  here  long?  " 

"  A  month.  My  father  came  to  see  about 
the  furs  that  Ben  Gillam  lost  in  the  bay,"  ex- 
plains Rebecca. 

''  Oh!  "  said  I,  vouching  no  more. 

"  The  ship  was  sent  back,"  continues  Re- 
becca, all  innocent  of  the  nature  of  her  father's 
venture,  "  and  my  father  hopes  that  King 
Charles  may  get  the  French  to  return  the  value 
of  the  furs." 

309 


HERALDS   OF   EMPIRE 

"Oh!" 

There  was  a  little  silence.  The  other 
tongues  prattled  louder.  Rebecca  leaned  to- 
wards me. 

''  Have  you  seen  her?  "  she  asked. 

^'Who?" 

She  gave  an  impetuous  little  shake  of  her 
head.     "  You  know,"  she  said. 

^'Well?"  I  asked. 

''  She  hath  taken  me  through  all  the  grand 
places,  Ramsay;  through  Whitehall  and  Hamp- 
ton Court  and  the  Tower!  She  hath  come  to 
see  me  every  week!  " 

I  said  nothing. 

"  To-morrow  she  goes  to  Oxford  with  the 
queen.  She  is  not  happy,  Ramsay.  She  says 
she  feels  like  a  caged  bird.  Ramsay,  why  did 
she  love  that  north  land  where  the  wicked 
Frenchman  took  her?  " 

'*  I  don't  know,  Rebecca.  She  once  said  it 
was  strong  and  pure  and  free." 

''  Did  you  see  her  oft,  Ramsay?  " 

"  No,  Rebecca;  only  at  dinner  on  Sundays." 

*'  And — and — all  the  of^cers  were  there  on 
the  Sabbath?  " 

"  All  the  officers  were  there!  " 

She  sat  silent,  eyes  downcast,  thinking. 

"  Ramsay?  " 

310 


UNDER  THE  iEGIS  OF  THE  COURT 

"  Well? " 

"  Hortense   will   be    marrying   some    grand 

courtier." 

''  May  he  be  worthy  of  her." 

"  I  think  many  ask  her." 

"  And  what  does  Mistress  Hortense  say?  " 

"  I  think,"  answers  Rebecca  meditatively, 
"  from  the  quantity  of  love-verse  writ,  she  must 
keep  saying — Xo." 

Then  Lady  Kirke  turns  to  bid  us  all  go  to 
the  Duke's  Theatre,  where  the  king's  suite 
would  appear  that  night.  Rebecca,  of  course, 
would  not  go.  Her  father  would  be  expecting 
her  when  he  came  home,  she  said.  So  Pierre 
Radisson  and  I  escorted  Lady  Kirke  and  her 
daughter  to  the  play,  riding  in  one  of  those  pon- 
derous coaches,  with  four  belaced  footmen 
cUnging  behind  and  postillions  before.  At  the 
entrance  to  the  playhouse  was  a  great  con- 
course of  crowding  people,  masked  ladies,  court- 
iers with  pages  carrying  torches  for  the  return 
after  dark,  merchants  with  linkmen,  work  folk 
with  lanterns,  noblemen  elbowing  tradesmen 
from  the  wall,  tradesmen  elbowing  mechanics; 
all  pushing  and  jostUng  and  cracking  their  jokes 
with  a  freedom  of  speech  that  would  have  cost 
dear  in  Boston  Town.  The  beaux,  I  mind,  had 
ready-writ  love-verses  sticking  out  of  pockets 

^11 


HERALDS    OF    EMPIRE 

thick  as  bailiffs'  yellow  papers;  so  that  a  gallant 
could  have  stocked  his  own  munitions  by  pick- 
ing up  the  missives  dropped  at  the  feet  of  dis- 
dainfuls.  Of  the  play,  I  recall  nothing  but  that 
some  favourite  of  the  king,  Mary  Davies,  or 
the  famous  Nell,  or  some  such  an  one,  danced 
a  monstrous  bold  jig.  Indeed,  our  grand  peo- 
ple, taking  their  cue  from  the  courtiers'  boxes, 
affected  a  mighty  contempt  for  the  play,  except 
when  a  naughty  jade  on  the  boards  stepped 
high,  or  blew  a  kiss  to  some  dandy  among  the 
noted  folk.  For  aught  I  could  make  out,  they 
did  not  come  to  hear,  but  to  be  heard;  the  ladies 
chattering  and  ogling;  the  gallants  stalking 
from  box  to  box  and  pit  to  galler\%  waving 
their  scented  handkerchiefs,  striking  a  pose 
where  the  greater  part  of  the  audience  could  see 
the  flash  of  beringed  fingers,  or  taking  a  pinch 
of  snuff  with  a  snap  of  the  lid  to  call  attention 
to  its  gold-work  and  naked  goddesses. 

"Drat  these  tradespeople,  kinsman!"  says 
Lady  Kirke,  as  a  fat  townsman  and  his  wife 
pushed  past  us,  ''  drat  these  tradespeople!  "  says 
she  as  we  were  taking  our  place  in  one  of  the 
boxes,  "  'tis  monstrous  gracious  of  the  king  to 
come  among  them  at  all!  " 

IMethought  her  memory  of  Sir  John's  career 
had  been  suddenly  clipped  short;  but  Pierre  Ra- 

^12 


UNDER  THE  JEGIS  OF  THE  COURT 

disson  only  smiled  solemnly.  Some  jokes,  like 
dessert,  are  best  taken  cold,  not  hot. 

Then  there  was  a  craning  of  necks;  and  the 
king's  party  came  in,  His  Majesty  grown  sallow 
with  years  but  gay  and  nonchalant  as  ever,  with 
Barillon,  the  French  ambassador,  on  one  side 
and  Her  Grace  of  Portsmouth  on  the  other. 
Behind  came  the  whole  court;  the  Duchess  of 
Cleveland,  whom  our  wits  were  beginning  to 
call  "  a  perennial,"  because  she  held  her  power 
with  the  king  and  her  lovers  increased  with 
age;  statesmen  hanging  upon  her  for  a  look  or 
a  smile  that  might  lead  the  way  to  the  king's 
ear;  Sir  George  Jeffreys,  the  judge,  whose  name 
was  to  become  England's  infamy;  Queen  Cathe- 
rine of  Braganza,  keeping  up  hollow  mirth  with 
those  whose  presence  was  insult;  the  Duke  of 
York,  soberer  than  his  royal  brother,  the  king, 
since  Monmouth's  menace  to  the  succession; 
and  a  host  of  hangers-on  ready  to  swear  away 
England's  liberties  for  a  licking  of  the  crumbs 
that  fell  from  royal  lips. 

Then  the  hum  of  the  playhouse  seemed  as 
the  beating  of  the  north  sea;  for  Lady  Kirke  was 
whispering,  ''There!  There!  There  she  is!" 
and  Hortense  was  entering  one  of  the  royal 
boxes  accompanied  by  a  foreign-looking,  elder- 
ly woman,  and  that  young  Lieutenant  Blood, 


3'0 


HERALDS    OF   EMPIRE 

whom  we  had  encountered  earlier  in  the 
day. 

"  The  countess  from  Portugal — Her  Majes- 
ty's friend,"  murmurs  Lady  Kirke.  ''  Ah, 
Pierre,  you  have  done  finely  for  us  all!  " 

And  there  oozed  over  my  Lady  Kirke's 
countenance  as  fine  a  satisfaction  as  ever  radi- 
ated from  the  face  of  a  sweating  cook. 

*'  How?  "  asks  Pierre  Radisson,  pursing  his 
lips. 

"  Sir  John  hath  dined  twice  with  His  Royal 
Highness " 

'*  The  Duke  is  Governor  of  the  Company, 
and  Sir  John  is  a  director." 

"  Ta-ta,  now  there  you  go,  Pierre!"  smirks 
my  lady.  **  An  your  pretty  baggage  had  not 
such  a  saucy  way  with  the  men — why — who  can 
tell " 

"  Madame,"  interrupted  Pierre  Radisson, 
"  God  forbid!  There  be  many  lords  amaking 
in  strange  ways,  but  we  of  the  wilderness  only 
count  honour  worth  when  it's  won  honourablv." 

But  Lady  Kirke  bare  heard  the  rebuke. 
She  was  all  eyes  for  the  royal  box.  ''  La,  now, 
Pierre,"  she  cries,  **see!  The  king  hath  recog- 
nised you!  "  She  lurched  forward  into  fuller 
view  of  onlookers  as  she  spoke.  ' "  Wella- 
day!    Good  lack!    Pierre  Radisson,  I  do  believe! 

314 


UNDER  THE  lEGlS  OF  THE  COURT 

— Yes! — See! — His  Majesty  is  sending  for 
you!" 

And  a  page  in  royal  colours  appeared  to 
say  that  the  king  commanded  Pierre  Radisson  to 
present  himself  in  the  royal  box.  With  his  wiry 
hair  wild  as  it  had  ever  been  on  the  north  sea, 
off  he  went,  all  unconscious  of  the  contemptu- 
ous looks  from  courtier  and  dandy  at  his  strange, 
half-savage  dress.  And  presently  Pierre  Radis- 
son is  seated  in  the  king's  presence,  chatting 
unabashed,  the  cynosure  of  all  eyes.  At  the  stir, 
Hortense  had  turned  towards  us.  For  a  mo- 
ment the  Hstless  hauteur  gave  place  to  a  scarce 
hidden  start.  Then  the  pallid  face  had  looked 
indifferently  away. 

"  The  huzzy!  "  mutters  Lady  Kirke.  ''  She 
might  'a'  bowed  in  sight  of  the  whole  house! 
Hoighty-toighty!  We  shall  see,  an  the  little 
moth  so  easily  blinded  by  court  glare  is  not 
singed  for  its  vanity!  Ungrateful  baggage! 
See  how  she  sits,  not  deigning  to  listen  one  word 
of  all  the  young  lieutenant  is  saying!    Mary?  " 

"  Yes " 

"  You  mind  I  told  her — I  warned  the  saucy 
miss  to  give  more  heed  to  the  men — to  remem- 
ber w^hat  it  might  mean  to  us " 

"Yes,"  adds  Madame  Radisson,  "and  she 

said  she  hated  the  court " 

21  315 


HERALDS    OF   EMPIRE 

''Faugh!"  laughs  Lady  Kirke,  fussing  and 
fuming  and  shifting  her  place  like  a  peacock 
with  ruffled  plumage,  "  pride  before  the  fall — 
I'll  warrant,  you  men  spoiled  her  in  the  north! 
Very  fine,  forsooth,  when  a  pauper  wench  from 
no  one  knows  where  may  slight  the  first  ladies 
of  the  land!" 

''  ■Madame,"  said  I,  ''  you  are  missing  the 
play!  " 

"  Master  Stanhope,"  said  she,  *'  the  play 
must  be  marvellous  moving!  Where  is  your 
colour  of  a  moment  ago?  " 

I  had  no  response  to  her  railing.  It  was  as 
if  that  look  of  Hortense  had  come  from  across 
the  chasm  that  separated  the  old  order  from  the 
new.  In  the  wilderness  she  was  in  distress,  I 
her  helper.  Here  she  was  of  the  court  and  I 
— a  common  trader.  Such  fools  does  pride 
make  of  us,  and  so  prone  are  we  to  doubt  an- 
other's faith! 

''  One  slight  was  enough,"  Lady  Kirke  was 
vowing  with  a  toss  of  her  head;  and  we  none  of 
us  gave  another  look  to  the  royal  boxes  that 
night,  though  all  about  the  wits  were  cracking 
their  jokes  against  M.  Radisson's  ''  oMedusa 
locks,"  or  ''  the  king's  idol,  with  feet  of  clay  and 
face  of  brass,"  thereby  meaning  M.  Radisson's 
moccasins  and  swarth  skin.     At  the  door  we 

316 


UNDER  THE  JEGIS  OF  THE  COURT 

were  awaiting  M.  Radisson's  return  when  the 
royal  company  came  out.  I  turned  suddenly 
and  met  Hortense's  eyes  blazing  with  a  hauteur 
that  forbade  recognition.  Beside  her  in  lover- 
like pose  lolled  that  milliners'  dummy  whom  we 
had  seen  humbled  in  the  morning. 

Then,  promising  to  rejoin  Pierre  Radisson 
at  the  Fur  Company's  offices,  I  made  my  adieux 
to  the  Kirkes  and  flung  out  among  those  wild 
revellers  who  scoured  London  streets  of  a  dark 
night. 


317 


CHAPTER    XXV 

JACK    BATTLE    AGAIN 

The  higher  one's  hopes  mount  the  farther 
they  have  to  fall;  and  I,  who  had  mounted  to  stars 
with  Hortense,  was  pushed  to  the  gutter  by  the 
king's  dragoons  making  way  for  the  royal  equi- 
page. There  was  a  crackling  of  whips  among 
the  king's  postillions.  A  yeoman  thrust  the 
crowd  back  with  his  pike.  The  carriages  rolled 
past.  The  flash  of  a  linkman's  torch  revealed 
Hortense  sitting  languid  and  scornful  between 
the  foreign  countess  and  that  milliner's  dummy 
of  a  lieutenant.  Then  the  royal  carriages  were 
lost  in  the  darkness,  and  the  streets  thronged  by 
a  rabble  of  singing,  shouting,  hilarious  revellers. 

Different  generations  have  different  ways  of 
taking  their  pleasure,  and  the  youth  of  King 
Charles's  day  were  alternately  bullies  on  the 
street  and  dandies  at  the  feet  of  my  lady  disdain- 
ful. At  the  approach  of  the  shouting,  night- 
watchmen  threw  down  their  lanterns  and  took 
to    their    heels.       Street-sweeps    tossed    their 

318 


JACK    BATTLE   AGAIN 

brooms  in  mid-road  with  cries  of  "  The  Scower- 
ers!  The  Scowerers!  "  Hucksters  fled  into  the 
dark  of  side  lanes.  Shopkeepers  shot  their 
door-bolts.  Householders  blew  out  lights. 
Fruit-venders  made  off  without  their  baskets, 
and  small  urchins  shrieked  the  alarm  of  **  Baby- 
eaters!     Baby-eaters!  " 

One  sturdy  watch,  I  mind,  stood  his  guard, 
laying  about  with  a  stout  pike  in  a  way  that 
broke  our  fine  revellers'  heads  like  soft  pump- 
kins; but  him  they  stood  upon  his  crown  in  some 
goodwife's  rain-barrel  with  his  lantern  tied  to  his 
heels.  At  the  rush  of  the  rabble  for  shelves  of 
cakes  and  pies,  one  shopman  levelled  his  blun- 
derbuss. That  brought  shouts  of  ''  A  sweat!  A 
sweat!  "  In  a  twinkling  the  rascals  were  about 
him.  A  sword  pricked  from  behind.  The  fellow 
jumped.  Another  prick,  and  yet  another,  till 
the  good  man  was  dancing  such  a  jig  the  sweat 
rolled  from  his  fat  jowls  and  he  roared  out  prom- 
ise to  feast  the  whole  rout.  A  peddler  of  small 
images  had  lingered  to  see  the  sport,  and  enough 
of  it  he  had,  I  promise  you;  for  they  dumped  him 
into  his  wicker  basket  and  trundled  it  through 
the  gutter  till  the  peddler  and  his  little  white 
saints  were  black  as  chimney-sweeps.  Nor  did 
our  merry  blades  play  their  pranks  on  poor  folk 
alone.    At  Will's  Coffee  House,  where  sat  Dry- 

319 


HERALDS    OF    EMPIRE 

den  and  other  mighty  quidnuncs  spinning  their 
poetry  and  politics  over  full  cups,  before  mine 
host  got  his  doors  barred  our  fellows  had 
charged  in,  seized  one  of  the  great  wits  and  set 
him  singing  Gammer  Gurton's  Needle,  till  the 
gentlemen  were  glad  to  put  dow'n  pennies  for 
the  company  to  drink  healths. 

By  this  I  had  enough  of  your  gentleman 
bully's  brawling,  and  I  gave  the  fellows  the  slip 
to  meet  Pierre  Radisson  at  the  General  Council 
of  Hudson's  Bay  Adventurers  to  be  held  in  John 
Horth's  offices  in  Broad  Street.  Our  gentlemen 
adventurers  were  mighty  jealous  of  their  se- 
crets in  those  days.  I  think  they  imagined  their 
great  game-preserve  a  kind  of  Spanish  gold-mine 
safer  hidden  from  public  ken,  and  they  held  their 
meetings  with  an  air  of  mystery  that  pirates 
might  have  worn.  For  my  part,  I  do  not  believe 
there  were  French  spies  hanging  round  Horth's 
office  for  knowledge  of  the  Fur  Company's  do- 
ings, though  the  doorkeeper,  who  gave  me  a 
chair  in  the  anteroom,  reported  that  a  strange- 
looking  fellow  with  a  wife  as  from  foreign  parts 
had  been  asking  for  me  all  that  day,  and  refused 
to  leave  till  he  had  learned  the  address  of  my 
lodgings. 

''  'Ave  ye  taken  the  hoath  of  hallegiance, 
sir?  "  asked  the  porter. 

320 


JACK    BATTLE   AGAIN 

"  I  was  born  in  England,"  said  I  dr}'ly. 

"  Your  renegade  of  a  French  savage  is  atak- 
in'  the  hoath  now,"  confided  the  porter,  jerking 
his  thumb  towards  the  inner  door.  ''  They  do 
say  as  'ow  it  is  for  love  of  Mary  Kirke  and  not 
the  English " 

''  Your  renegade  of  a  French — who? "  I 
asked  sharply,  thinking  it  ill  omen  to  hear  a 
flunkey  of  the  English  Company  speaking  light- 
ly of  our  leader. 

But  at  the  question  the  fellow  went  glum 
with  a  tipping  and  bowing  and  begging  of  par- 
don. Then  the  councillors  began  to  come:  Ar- 
lington and  Ashley  of  the  court,  one  of  those 
Carterets,  who  had  been  on  the  Boston  Commis- 
sion long  ago  and  first  induced  M.  Radisson  to 
go  to  England,  and  at  last  His  Royal  Highness 
the  Duke  of  York,  deep  in  conversation  with  my 
kinsman,  Sir  John  Kirke. 

"  It  can  do  no  harm  to  employ  him  for  one 
trip,"  Sir  John  was  saying. 

"  He  hath  taken  the  oath?  "  asks  His  Royal 
Highness. 

''  He  is  taking  it  to-night;  but,"  laughs  Sir 
John,  "  we  thought  he  was  a  good  Englishman 
once  before." 

"  Your  company  used  him  ill.  You  must 
keep  him  from  going  over  to  the  French  again." 

321 


HERALDS    OF   EMPIRE 

"  Till  he  undo  the  evil  he  has  done — till  he 
capture  back  all  that  he  took  from  us — then," 
says  Sir  John  cautiously,  ''  then  we  must  con- 
sider whether  it  be  politic  to  keep  a  gamester  in 
the  company." 

''  Anyway,"  adds  His  Highness,  ''  France 
will  not  take  him  back." 

And  the  door  closed  on  the  councillors  while 
I  awaited  Radisson  in  the  anteroom.  A  mo- 
ment later  Pierre  Radisson  came  out  with  eyes 
alight  and  face  elate. 

*'  I've  signed  to  sail  in  three  days,"  he  an- 
nounced.   '*  Do  you  go  with  me  or  no?  " 

Two  memories  came  back:  one  of  a  face  be- 
tween a  westering  sun  and  a  golden  sea,  and  I 
hesitated;  the  other,  of  a  cold,  pallid,  disdainful 
look  from  the  royal  box. 

"I  go." 

And  entering  the  council  chamber,  I  signed 
the  papers  without  one  glance  at  the  terms. 
Gentlemen  sat  all  about  the  long  table,  and  at 
the  head  was  the  governor  of  the  company — the 
Duke  of  York,  talking  freely  with  M.  de  Ra- 
disson. 

My  Lord  Ashley  would  know  if  anything  but 
furs  grew  in  that  wild  New  World. 

''  Furs?  "  says  M.  Radisson.  "  Sir,  mark 
my  words,  'tis  a  world  that  grows  empires — also 

322 


JACK   BATTLE   AGAIN 

men,"  with  an  emphasis  which  those  court  dan- 
dies could  not  understand. 

But  the  wise  gentlemen  only  smiled  at  M. 
Radisson's  warmth. 

"  If  it  grew  good  soldiers  for  our  wars — '* 
begins  one  miUtary  gentleman. 

"  Aye,"  flashes  back  M.  Radisson  ironically, 
"  if  it  grows  men  for  your  wars  and  your  butch- 
ery and  your  shambles!  Mark  my  words:  it  is 
a  land  that  grows  men  good  for  more  than  kill- 
ing," and  he  smiles  half  in  bitterness. 

''  'Tis  a  prodigious  expensive  land  in  diplo- 
macy when  men  like  you  are  let  loose  in  it,"  re- 
marks Arlington. 

His  Royal  Highness  rose  to  take  his  leave. 
"  You  will  present  a  full  report  to  His  Maj- 
esty at  Oxford,"  he  orders  M.  Radisson  in  part- 
ing. 

Then  the  council  dispersed. 
''  Oxford,"  says  M.  Radisson,  as  we  picked 
our  way  home  through  the  dark  streets;  ''  an  I 
go  to  meet  the  king  at  Oxford,  you  will  see  a 
hornets'  nest  of  jealousy  about  my  ears." 

I  did  not  tell  him  of  the  double  work  implied 
in  Sir  John's  words  with  the  prince,  for  Sir  John 
Kirke  was  Pierre  Radisson's  father-in-law.  At 
the  door  of  the  Star  and  Garter  mine  host  calls 
out  that  a  strange-looking  fellow  wearing  a  griz- 

323 


HERALDS    OF    EMPIRE 

zled  beard  and  with  a  wife  as  from  foreign  parts 
had  been  waiting  all  afternoon  for  me  in  my 
rooms. 

*'  From  foreign  parts!  "  repeats  M.  Radisson, 
getting  into  a  chair  to  go  to  Sir  John's  house  in 
Drury  Lane.  ''  If  they're  French  spies,  send 
them  right  about,  Ramsay!  We've  stopped 
gamestering! " 

"  We  have;  but  perhaps  the  others  haven't.'* 

"  Let  them  game,"  laughs  M.  Radisson 
scornfully,  as  the  chair  moved  off. 

Not  knowing  what  to  expect  I  ran  up-stairs 
to  my  room.  At  the  door  I  paused.  That 
morning  I  had  gone  from  the  house  light-heart- 
ed. Now  interest  had  died  from  life.  I  had  but 
one  wish,  to  reach  that  wilderness  of  swift  con- 
flict, where  thought  has  no  time  for  regret.  The 
door  was  ajar.  A  coal  fire  burned  on  the  hearth. 
Sitting  on  the  floor  were  two  figures  with  backs 
towards  me,  a  ragged,  bearded  man  and  a  woman 
with  a  shawl  over  her  head.  What  fools  does 
hope  make  of  us!  I  had  almost  called  out  Hor- 
tense's  name  when  the  noise  of  the  closing  door 
caught  their  hearing.  I  was  in  the  north  again; 
an  Indian  girl  was  on  her  knees  clinging  to  my 
feet,  sobbing  out  incoherent  gratitude;  a  pair 
of  arms  were  belabouring  my  shoulders;  and 
a  voice  was  saying  with  broken  gurgles  of  joy: 

324 


JACK   BATTLE   AGAIN 

"Ship  ahoy,  there!  Ease  your  helm!  Don't 
heave  all  your  ballast  overboard!" — a  clapping 
of  hands  on  my  back — ''  Port  your  helm!  Ease 
her  up!  All  sheets  in  the  wind  and  the  stormsl 
aflutter!  Ha — ha!"  with  a  wringing  and  a 
wringing  like  to  wrench  my  hands  off — "  Anchor 
out!     Haul  away!    Home  with  her  .  .  .  !  " 

"Jack  Battle!" 

It  was  all  I  could  say. 

There  he  was,  grizzled  and  bronzed  and 
W'eather-worn,  laughing  with  joy  and  thrashing 
his  arms  about  as  if  to  belabour  me  again. 

"  But  who  is  this,  Jack?  " 

I  lifted  the  Indian  woman  from  her  knees.  It 
was  the  girl  my  blow  had  saved  that  morning 
long  ago. 

"  Who— what  is  this?  " 

"  My  wife,"  says  Jack,  swinging  his  arms 
afresh  and  proud  as  a  prince. 

"Your  wife?  .  .  .  Where  .  .  .  who  married 
you?'' 

"  There  warn't  no  parson,"  says  Jack,  "  that 
is,  there  warn't  no  parson  nearer  nor  three  thou- 
sand leagues  and  more.  And  say,"  adds  Jack, 
"  I  s'pose  there  w-as  marryin'  afore  there  could  be 
parsons!  She  saved  my  life.  She  hain't  no  folks. 
I  hain't  no  folks.  She  got  away  that  morning  o' 
the  massacre — she  see  them  take  us  captive — she 

325 


HERALDS   OF   EMPIRE 

gets  a  white  pelt  to  hide  her  agen  the  snow — she 
come,  she  do  all  them  cold  miles  and  lets  me 
loose  when  the  braves  ain't  watching  .  .  .  she 
risks  her  life  to  save  my  life — she  don't  belong  to 
nobody.  I  don't  belong  to  nobody.  There 
waren't  no  parson,  but  we're  married  tight  .  .  . 
and — and — let  not  man  put  asunder,"  says  Jack. 

For  full  five  minutes  there  was  not  a  word. 

The  east  was  trying  to  understand  the 
west! 

"  Amen,  Jack,'*  said  I.  '*  God  bless  you — 
you  are  a  man!  " 

"  We  mean  to  get  a  parson  and  have  it  done 
straight  yet,"  explained  Jack,  ''  but  I  wanted 
you  to  stand  by  me " 

"  Faith,  Jack,  you've  done  it  pretty  thorough 
without  any  help " 

"  Yes,  but  folks  won't  understand,"  pleaded 
Jack,  "  and — and — I'd  do  as  much  for  you — I 
wanted  you  to  stand  by  me  and  tell  me  where  to 
say  '  yes  '  when  the  parson  reads  the  words " 

"  All  right — I  shall,"  I  promised,  laughing. 

If  only  Hortense  could  know  all  this!  That 
is  the  sorrow  of  rifted  lives — the  dark  between, 
on  each  side  the  thoughts  that  yearn. 

"  And — and,"  Jack  was  stammering  on,  "  I 
thought,  perhaps.  Mistress  Rebecca  'd  be  will- 
ing to  stand  by  Mizza,"  nodding  to  the  young 

326 


JACK    BATTLE   AGAIN 

squaw,  "  that  is,  if  you  asked  Rebecca,"  pleaded 
Jack. 

"  We'll  see,"  said  I. 

For  the  New  England  conscience  was  some- 
thing to  reckon  with! 

"  How  did  you  come  here?  "  I  asked. 

"  Mizza  snared  rabbits  and  I  stole  back  my 
musket  when  we  ran  away  and  did  some  shoot- 
ing long  as  powder  lasted " 

"And  then?" 

"  And  then  we  used  bow  and  arrow.  We  hid 
in  the  bush  till  the  hostiles  quit  cruisin';  but  the 
spring  storms  caught  us  when  we  started  for  the 
coast.  I  s'pose  I'm  a  better  sailor  on  water  than 
land,  for  split  me  for  a  herring  if  my  eyes  didn't 
go  blind  from  snow!  We  hove  to  in  the  woods 
again,  Mizza  snaring  rabbit  and  building  a  lodge 
and  keepin'  fire  agoin'  and  carin'  for  me  as  if  I 
deserved  it.  There  I  lay  water-logged,  odd's 
man — blind  as  a  mole  till  the  spring  thaws  came. 
Then  Alizza  an'  me  built  a  raft ;  for  sez  I  to  Miz, 
though  she  didn't  understand  :  '  Miz,'  sez  I, 
*  water  don't  flow  uphill!  If  we  rig  up  a  craft, 
that  river'U  carry  us  to  the  bay! '  But  she  only 
gets  down  on  the  ground  the  way  she  did  with 
you  and  puts  my  foot  on  her  neck.  Lordy," 
laughs  Jack,  ''  s'pose  I  don't  know  what  a  foot 
on  a  neck  feels  like?    I  sez:  '  Miz,  if  you  ever  do 

327 


HERALDS    OF   EMPIRE 

that  again,  I'll  throw  you  overboard!'  Then 
the  backwash  came  so  strong  from  the  bay,  we 
had  to  wait  till  the  floods  settled.  While  we 
swung  at  anchor, man,  what  d'y'  think  happened? 
I  taught  Miz  English.  Soon  as  ever  she  knew 
words  enough  I  told  her  if  I  was  a  captain  I'd 
want  a  mate!  She  didn't  catch  the  wind  o'  that, 
lad,  till  we  were  navigating  our  raft  down- 
stream agen  the  ice-jam.  Ship  ahoy,  you  know, 
the  ice  was  like  to  nip  us,  and  lackin'  a  Ufe-belt 
I  put  me  arm  round  her  waist!  Ease  your  helm! 
Port — a  little!  Haul  away!  But  she  under- 
stood— when  she  saw  me  save  her  from  the  jam 
before  I  saved  myself." 

And  Jack  Battle  stood  away  arm's  length 
from  his  Indian  wife  and  laughed  his  pride. 

''  And  by  the  time  we'd  got  to  the  bay  you'd 
gone,  but  Jean  Groseillers  sent  us  to  the  English 
ship  that  came  out  expecting  to  find  Governor 
Brigdar  at  Nelson.  We  shipped  with  the  com- 
pany boat,  and  here  we  be." 

'*  And  what  are  you  going  to  do?  " 

"  Oh,  I  get  work  enough  on  the  docks  to 
pay  for  Mizza's  lessons " 

''  Lessons?  " 

**  Yes  —  she's  learning  sewin'  and  readin* 
from  the  nuns,  and  as  soon  as  she's  baptized 
we're  going  to  be  married  regular." 

328 


JACK   BATTLE   AGAIN 

"  Oh!  "  A  sigh  of  relief  escaped  me.  ''  Then 
you'll  not  need  Rebecca  for  six  months  or 
so?" 

"  No;  but  you'll  ask  her?  "  pleaded  Jack. 

"  If  I'm  here." 

As  they  were  going  out  Jack  slipped  back 
from  the  hallway  to  the  fireplace,  leaving  Alizza 
outside. 

''  Ramsay?  " 

"Yes?" 

"  You  think— it's— it's— all  right?  " 

"  What?  " 

"  What  I  done  about  a  mate?  " 

''Right?"  I  reiterated.  ''Here's  my  hand 
to  you — blessing  on  the  voyage,  Captain  Jack 
Battle!" 

"  Ah,"  smiled  Jack,  "  you've  been  to  the  wil- 
derness— you  understand!  Other  folks  don't! 
That  is  the  way  it  happens  out  there!  " 

He  lingered  as  of  old  when  there  was  more 
to  come. 

"  Ramsay?  " 

"  Sail  away,  captain!  " 

"  Have  you  seen  Hortense?  "  he  asked,  look- 
ing straight  at  me. 

"  Um — yes — no — that  is — I  have  and  I 
haven't." 

"  Why  haven't  you?  " 

329 


HERALDS    OF   EMPIRE 

"  Because  having  become  a  grand  lady,  her 
ladyship  didn't  choose  to  see  me." 

Jack  Battle  turned  on  his  heel  and  swore  a 
seaman's  oath.    "  That — that's  a  He,"  said  he. 

"  Very  well — it's  a  lie,  but  this  is  what  hap- 
pened," and  I  told  him  of  the  scene  in  the  the- 
atre. Jack  pulled  a  puzzled  face,  looking 
askance  as  he  listened. 

*'  Why  didn't  you  go  round  to  her  box,  the 
way  M.  Radisson  did  to  the  king's?  " 

'*  You  forget  I  am  only  a  trader!  " 

*'  Pah,"  says  Jack,  "  that  is  nothing!  " 

*'  You  forget  that  Lieutenant  Blood  might 
have  objected  to  my  visit,"  and  I  told  him  of 
Blood. 

"  But  how  was  Mistress  Hortense  to  know 
that?" 

Wounded  pride  hugs  its  misery,  and  I  an- 
swered nothing. 

At  the  door  he  stopped.  *'  You  go  along 
with  Radisson  to  Oxford,"  he  called.  "  The 
court  will  be  there." 


330 


CHAPTER    XXVI 

AT   OXFORD 

Rioting  through  London  streets  or  playing 
second  in  M.  Radisson's  games  of  empire,  it  was 
possible  to  forget  her,  but  not  in  Oxford  with 
the  court  retinue  all  about  and  the  hedgerows 
abloom  and  spring-time  in  the  air.  M.  Radisson 
had  gone  to  present  his  reports  to  the  king. 
With  a  vague  belief  that  chance  might  work 
some  miracle,  I  accompanied  M.  Radisson  till  we 
encountered  the  first  belaced  fellow  of  the  King's 
Guard.  'Twas  outside  the  porter's  lodge  of  the 
grand  house  where  the  king  had  been  pleased  to 
breakfast  that  morning. 

"And  what  might  this  young  man  want?'* 
demanded  the  fellow,  with  lordly  belligerence, 
letting  M.  Radisson  pass  without  question. 

Your  colonial  hero  will  face  the  desperate 
chance  of  death;  but  not  the  smug  arrogance  of 
a  beliveried  flunkey. 

"  Wait  here,"  says  M.  Radisson  to  me,  for- 
getful of  Hortense  now  that  his  own  end  was 
won. 

23  331 


HERALDS   OF   EMPIRE 

And  I  struck  through  the  copse-wood,  telling 
myself  that  chance  makes  grim  sport.  Ah,  well, 
the  toughening  of  the  wilderness  is  not  to  be 
undone  by  fickle  fingers,  however  dainty,  nor  a 
strong  life  blown  out  by  a  girl's  caprice!  Riders 
went  clanking  past.  I  did  not  turn.  Let  those 
that  honoured  dishonour  doff  hats  to  that  com- 
pany of  loose  women  and  dissolute  men!  Hor- 
tense  was  welcome  to  the  womanish  men  and  the 
mannish  women,  to  her  dandified  lieutenant  and 
foreign  adventuresses  and  grand  ambassadors, 
who  bought  English  honour  with  the  smiles  of 
evil  women.  Coming  to  a  high  stone  wall,  I 
saw  two  riders  galloping  across  the  open  field 
for  the  copse  wood. 

"  A  very  good  place  to  break  foolish  necks," 
thought  I;  for  the  riders  were  coming  straight 
towards  me,  and  a  deep  ditch  ran  along  the  other 
side  of  the  wall. 

To  clear  the  wall  and  then  the  ditch  would 
be  easy  enough;  but  to  clear  the  ditch  and  then 
the  wall  required  as  pretty  a  piece  of  foolhardy 
horsemanship  as  hunters  could  find.  Out  of 
sheer  curiosity  to  see  the  end  I  slackened  my 
walk.  A  woman  in  green  was  leading  the  pace. 
The  man  behind  was  shouting  "  Don't  try  it! 
Don't  try  it!  Ride  round  the  end!  Wait! 
Wait!  "    But  the  woman  came  on  as  if  her  horse 

332 


AT   OXFORD 

had  the  bit.  Then  all  my  mighty,  cool  stoicism 
began  thumping  like  a  smith's  forge.  The 
woman  was  Hortense,  with  that  daring  look  on 
her  face  I  had  seen  come  to  it  in  the  north  land; 
and  her  escort,  young  Lieutenant  Blood,  with 
terror  as  plainly  writ  on  his  fan-shaped  elbows 
and  pounding  gait  as  if  his  horse  were  galloping 
to  perdition. 

"Don't  jump!  Head  about,  Mistress  Hil- 
lary! "  cried  the  lieutenant. 

But  Hortense's  lips  tightened,  the  rein  tight- 
ened, there  was  that  lifting  bound  into  air  when 
horse  and  rider  are  one — the  quick  paying-out 
of  the  rein — the  long,  stretching  leap — the  back- 
ward brace — and  the  wall  had  been  cleared. 
But  Blood's  horse  balked  the  jump,  nigh  send- 
ing him  head  over  into  the  moat,  and  seizing  the 
bit,  carried  its  cursing  rider  down  the  slope  of  the 
field.  In  vain  the  lieutenant  beat  it  about  the 
head  and  dug  the  spurs  deep.  The  beast  sidled 
off  each  time  he  headed  it  up,  or  plunged  at  the 
water's  edge  till  Mistress  Hortense  cried  out: 

"  Oh — please!  I  cannot  see  you  risk  your- 
self on  that  beast!  Oh — please  won't  you  ride 
farther  down  where  I  can  get  back!  " 

''  Ho — away,  then,"  calls  Blood,  mighty  glad 
of  that  way  out  of  his  predicament,  "  but  don't 
try  the  wall  here  again.  Mistress  Hillary!    I  pro- 

333 


HERALDS    OF    EMPIRE 

test  'tis  not  safe  for  you!     Ho — away,  then!     I 
race  you  to  the  end  of  the  wall!  " 

And  ofif  he  gallops,  never  looking  back,  keen 
to  clear  the  wall  and  meet  my  lady  half-way  up. 

Hortense  sat  erect,  reining  her  horse  and 
smiling  at  me. 

*'  And  so  you  would  go  away  without  seeing 
me,"  she  said,  ''  and  I  must  needs  ride  you  down 
at  the  risk  of  the  Heutenant's  neck." 

*'  'Tis  the  way  of  the  proud  with  the  hum- 
ble," I  laughed  back;  but  the  laugh  had  no 
mirth. 

Her  face  went  grave.  She  sat  gazing  at  me 
with  that  straight,  honest  look  of  the  wilderness 
which  neither  lies  nor  seeks  a  lie. 

*'  Your  horse  is  champing  to  be  off,  Hor- 
tense!" 

"  Yes — and  if  you  looked  you  might  see  that 
I  am  keeping  him  from  going  off." 

I  smiled  at  the  poor  jest  as  a  court  conceit. 

"  Or  perhaps,  if  you  tried,  you  might  help  me 
to  hold  him,"  says  Hortense,  never  taking  her 
search  from  my  face. 

"  And  defraud  the  lieutenant,"  said  I. 

"  Ah!  "  says  Hortense,  looking  away.  "  Are 
you  jealous  of  anything  so  small?  " 

I  took  hold  of  the  bit  and  quieted  the  horse. 
Hortense  laughed. 

334 


AT    OXFORD 

"  Were  you  so  mighty  proud  the  other  night 
that  you  could  not  come  to  see  a  humble  ward 
of  the  court?  "  she  asked. 

*'  I  am  only  a  poor  trader  now!  " 

"  Ah,"  says  Hortense,  questioning  my  face 
again,  '*  I  had  thought  you  were  only  a  poor 
trader  before!    Was  that  the  only  reason?" 

''  To  be  sure,  Hortense,  the  lieutenant  would 
not  have  welcomed  me — he  might  have  told  his 
fellow  to  turn  me  out  and  made  confusion." 

And  I  related  M.  Radisson's  morning  en- 
counter with  Lieutenant  Blood,  whereat  Mis- 
tress Hortense  uttered  such  merry  peals  of 
laughter  I  had  thought  the  chapel-bells  were 
chiming. 

"  Ramsay!  "  she  cried  impetuously,  ''  I  hate 
this  life — why  did  you  all  send  me  to  it?  " 

"Hate  it!    Why ?" 

"  Why  ?  "  reiterated  Hortense.  "  Why, 
when  a  king,  who  is  too  busy  to  sign  death-re- 
prieves, may  spend  the  night  hunting  a  single 
moth  from  room  to  room  of  the  palace?  Why, 
when  ladies  of  the  court  dress  in  men's  clothes 
to  run  the  streets  with  the  Scowerers?  Why, 
when  a  duchess  must  take  me  every  morning  to 
a  milliner's  shop,  where  she  meets  her  lover,  who 
is  a  rope-walker?  ^^'hy,  when  our  sailors  starve 
unpaid  and  gold  enough  lies  on  the  basset-table 

335 


HERALDS    OF   EMPIRE 


» 


of  a  Sunday  night  to  feed  the  army?  Ah,  yes! 
says  Hortense,  ''  why  do  I  hate  this  hfe?  Why 
must  you  and  Madame  Radisson  and  Lady 
Kirke  all  push  me  here?  '' 

"  Hortense,"  I  broke  in,  "  you  were  a  ward 
of  the  crown!  What  else  was  there  for  us  to 
do?" 

"Ah,  yes!"  says  Hortense,  ''what  else? 
You  kept  your  promise,  and  a  ward  of  the  crown 
must  marry  whom  the  king  names " 

''Marry?" 

"  Or — or  go  to  a  nunnery  abroad/' 

"  A  nunnery?  " 

"Ah,  yes!"  mocks  Hortense,  "what  else  is 
there  to  do?" 

And  at  that  comes  Blood  crashing  through 
the  brush. 

"  Here,  fellow,  hands  off  that  bridle!  " 

"  The  horse  became  restless.  This  gentle- 
man held  him  for  me  till  you  came." 

"  Gad's  life!  "  cries  the  lieutenant,  dismount- 
ing. "  Let's  see?  "  And  he  examines  the  girths 
w'ith  a  great  show  of  concern.  "  A  nasty  tumble," 
says  he,  as  if  Hortense  had  been  rolled  on.  "  All 
sound,  Mistress  Hillary!  Egad!  You  must  not 
ride  such  a  wild  beast!  I  protest,  such  risks  are 
too  desperate!  "  And  he  casts  up  the  whites  of 
his  eyes  at  Mistress  Hortense,  laying  his  hand  on 

336 


AT    OXFORD 

his  heart.  "  When  did  you  feel  him  getting 
away  from  you?  " 

''  At  the  wall,"  says  Hortense. 

The  lieutenant  vaulted  to  his  saddle.    - 

*' Here,  fellow!" 

He  had  tossed  me  a  gold-piece. 

They  were  off.  I  lifted  the  coin,  balanced  it 
on  my  thumb,  and  flipped  it  ringing  against  the 
•wall.  When  I  looked  up,  Hortense  was  laugh- 
ing back  over  her  shoulder. 

On  May  17th  we  sailed  from  Gravesend  in 
the  Happy  Return,  two  ships  accompanying  us 
for  Hudson  Bay,  and  a  convoy  of  the  Royal  Ma- 
rine coming  as  far  as  the  north  of  Scotland  to 
stand  of?  Dutch  highwaymen  and  Spanish 
pirates. 

But  I  made  the  news  of  Jack  Battle's  mar- 
riage the  occasion  of  a  letter  to  one  of  the 
queen's  maids  of  honour. 


337 


CHAPTER    XXVII 

HOME    FROM    THE    BAY 

'TwAS  as  fair  sailing  under  English  colours 
as  you  could  wish  till  Pierre  Radisson  had  un- 
done all  the  mischief  that  he  had  worked  against 
the  Fur  Company  in  Hudson  Bay.  Pierre  Ra- 
disson sits  with  a  pipe  in  his  mouth  and  his  long 
legs  stretched  clear  across  the  cabin-table,  spin- 
ning yarns  of  wild  doings  in  savage  lands,  and 
Governor  Phipps,  of  the  Hudson's  Bay  Com- 
pany, listens  with  eyes  a  trifle  too  sleepily  watch- 
ful, methinks,  for  the  Frenchman's  good.  A 
summer  sea  kept  us  course  all  the  way  to  the 
northern  bay,  and  sometimes  Pierre  Radisson 
would  fling  out  of  the  cabin,  marching  up  and 
down  the  deck  muttering,  ''Pah!  'Tis  tame 
adventuring!  Takes  a  dish  o'  spray  to  salt  the 
freshness  out  o'  men!  'Tis  the  roaring  forties 
put  nerve  in  a  man's  marrow!  Soft  days  are 
your  Delilah's  that  shave  away  men's  strength! 
Toughen  your  fighters.  Captain  Gazer!  Tough- 
en your  fighters!  " 

338 


HOME    FROM    THE    BAY 

And  once,  when  M.  Radisson  had  passed  be- 
yond hearing,  the  governor  turns  ^vith  a  sleepy 
laugh  to  the  captain.  ^ 

^'  A  pox  on  the  rantipole!  "  says  he.  May 
the  sharks  test  the  nerve  of  his  marrow  after  he's 
captured  back  the  forts!  " 

In  the  bay  great  ice-drift  stopped  our  way, 
and  Pierre  Radisson's  impatience  took  fire. 

''What  a  deuce,  Captain  Gazer!"  he  cries. 
''  How  long  do  you  intend  to  squat  here  an- 
chored to  an  ice-pan?  " 

A  spark  shot  from  the  governor's  sleepy  eyes, 
and  Captain  Gazer  swallowed  words  twice  before 
he  answered. 

''  Till  the  ice  opens  a  way,"  says  he. 
''  Opens  a  way!  "  repeats  Radi^sson.    "  Man 
alive,  why  don't  you  carve  a  way?  " 

"  Carve  a  way  yourself,  Radisson,"  says  the 
governor  contemptuously. 

That  was  let  enough  for  Pierre  Radisson. 
He  had  the  sailors  lowering  jolly-boats  in  a  jifify; 
and  off  seven  of  us  went,  round  the  ice-pans, 
ploughing,  cutting,  portaging  a  way  till  we  had 
crossed  the  obstruction  and  were  pulling  for  the 
French  fort  with  the  spars  of  three  Company 
boats  far  in  the  offing. 

I  detained  the  English  sailors  at  the  river- 
front till  M.  Radisson  had  entered  the  fort  and 

339 


HERALDS   OF   EMPIRE 

won  young  Jean  Groseillers  to  the  change  of 
masters.  Before  the  Fur  Company's  ships  came, 
the  EngHsh  flag  was  flying  above  the  fort  and 
Fort  Bourbon  had  become  Fort  Nelson. 

"  I  bid  you  welcome  to  the  French  Habita- 
tion," bows  Radisson,  throwing  wide  the  gates 
to  the  English  governor. 

"  Hm!  "  returns  Phipps,  "  how  many  beaver- 
skins  are  there  in  store?  " 

M.  Radisson  looked  at  the  governor.  "  You 
must  ask  my  tradespeople  that,"  he  answers; 
and  he  stood  aside  for  them  all  to  pass. 

"  Your  English  mind  thinks  only  of  the 
gain,"  he  said  to  me. 

^*  And  your  French  mind?  "  I  asked. 

"  The  game  and  not  the  winnings,"  said  he. 

No  sooner  were  the  winnings  safe — twenty 
thousand  beaver-skins  stowed  away  in  three 
ships'  holds — than  Pierre  Radisson's  foes  un- 
masked. The  morning  of  our  departure  Gov- 
ernor Phipps  marched  all  our  Frenchmen  aboard 
like  captives  of  w'ar. 

"  Sir,"  expostulated  M.  de  Radisson,  "  before 
they  gave  up  the  fort  I  promised  these  men  they 
should  remain  in  the  bay." 

Governor  Phipps's  sleepy  eyes  of  a  sudden 
waked  wide. 

340 


HOME    FROM    THE    BAY 

"  Aye,"  he  taunted,  ''  with  Frenchmen  hold- 
ing our  fort,  a  pretty  trick  you  could  play  us 
when  the  fancy  took  you!  " 

M.  Radisson  said  not  a  word.  He  pulled  free 
a  gantlet  and  strode  forward,  but  the  doughty 
governor  hastily  scuttled  down  the  ship's  ladder 
and  put  a  boat's  length  of  water  between  him 
and  Pierre  Radisson's  challenge. 

The  gig-boat  pulled  away.  Our  ship  had 
raised  anchor.  Radisson  leaned  over  the  deck- 
rail  and  laughed. 

'*  Egad,  Phipps,"  he  shouted,  "  a  man  may 
not  fight  cowards,  but  he  can  cudgel  them!  An 
I  have  to  wait  for  you  on  the  River  Styx,  Ell 
punish  you  for  making  me  break  promise  to 
these  good  fellows!  " 

"  Promise — and  when  did  promise  o*  yours 
hold  good,  Pierre  Radisson?  " 

The  Frenchman  turned  with  a  bitter 
laugh. 

''  A  giant  is  big  enough  to  be  hit — a  giant  is 
easy  to  fight,"  says  he,  "  but  egad,  these  pigmies 
crawl  all  over  you  and  sting  to  death  before  they 
are  visible  to  the  naked  eye!  " 

And  as  the  Happy  Return  wore  ship  for 
open  sea  he  stood  moodily  silent  with  eyes  to- 
wards the  shore  where  Governor  Phipps's  gig- 
boat  had  moored  before  Fort  Nelson. 

341 


HERALDS   OF    EMPIRE 

Then,  speaking  more  to  himself  than  to  Jean 
and  me,  his  lips  curled  with  a  hard  scorn. 

''  The  Happy  Return!  "  says  he.  ''  Pardieu! 
'tis  a  happy  return  to  beat  devils  and  then  have 
all  your  own  little  lies  come  roosting  home  like 
imps  that  filch  the  victory!  They  don't  trust 
me  because  I  won  by  trickery!  Egad!  is  a 
slaughter  better  than  a  game?  An  a  man  wins, 
who  a  devil  gives  a  rush  for  the  winnings?  Tis 
the  fight  and  the  game— pah! — not  the  thing 
won!  Storm  and  cold,  man  and  beast,  powers 
o'  darkness  and  devil,  knaves  and  fools  and  his 
own  sins — aye,  that's  the  scratch! — The  man  and 
the  beast  and  the  dark  and  the  devil,  he  can 
breast  'em  all  with  a  bold  front!  But  knaves  and 
fools  and  his  own  sins,  pah! — death  grubs! — 
hatching  and  nesting  in  a  man's  bosom  till  they 
wake  to  sting  him!  Flesh-worms — vampires — 
blood-suckers — spun  out  o'  a  man's  own  tissue 
to  sap  his  fife!  " 

He  rapped  his  pistol  impatiently  against  the 
deck-rail,  stalked  past  us,  then  turned. 

"  Lads,"  says  he,  ''  if  you  don't  want  gall  in 
your  wine  and  a  grub  in  your  victory,  a'  God's 
name  keep  your  own  counsel  and  play  the  game 
fair  and  square  and  aboveboard." 

And  though  his  speech  worked  a  pretty 
enough  havoc  with  fine-spun  rhetoric  to  raise 

342 


HOiME    FROM    THE    BAY 

the  wig  off  a  pedant's  head,  Jean  and  I  thought 
we  read  some  sense  in  his  mixed  metaphors. 

On  all  that  voyage  home  he  never  once 
crossed  words  with  the  English  officers,  but 
took  his  share  of  hardship  with  the  French 
prisoners. 

''  I  mavn't  g:o  back  to  France.  They  think 
they  have  me  cornered  and  in  their  power,"  he 
would  say,  gnawing  at  his  finger-ends  and  gazing 
into  space. 

Once,  after  long  reverie,  he  sprang  up  from 
a  gun-waist  where  he  had  been  sitting  and  ut- 
tered a  scornful  laugh. 

''Cornered?  Hah!  We  shall  see!  I  snap 
my  fingers  in  their  faces." 

Thereafter  his  mood  brightened  perceptibly, 
and  he  was  the  first  to  put  foot  ashore  when  we 
came  to  anchor  in  British  port.  There  were  yet 
four  hours  before  the  post-chaise  left  for  Lon- 
don, and  the  English  crew  made  the  most  of 
the  time  by  flocking  to  the  ale-houses.  M.  Ra- 
disson  drew  Jean  and  me  apart. 

''  We'll  beat  our  detractors  yet,"  he  said. 
*'  If  news  of  this  capture  be  carried  to  the  king 
and  the  Duke  of  York  *  before  the  shareholders 

*  The  Duke  of  York  became  Governor  of  the  Hudson's 
Bay  Company  after  Prince  Rupert's  death,  and  the  Com- 
pany's charter  was  a  royal  favour  direct  from  the  king. 

343 


HERALDS   OF   EMPIRE 

spread  false  reports,  we  are  safe.  If  His  Royal 
Highness  favour  us,  the  Company  must  fall  in 
line  or  lose  their  charter!  " 

And  he  bade  us  hire  three  of  the  fleetest  sad- 
dle-horses to  be  found.  While  the  EngHsh  crew 
were  yet  brawling  in  the  taverns,  we  were  to 
horse  and  away.  Our  horse's  feet  rang  on  the 
cobblestones  with  the  echo  of  steel  and  the 
sparks  flashed  from  M.  Radisson's  eyes.  A 
wharfmaster  rushed  into  mid-road  to  stop  us, 
but  M.  Radisson  rode  him  down.  A  uniformed 
constable  called  out  to  know  what  we  were 
about. 

''  Our  business!  "  shouts  M.  Radisson,  and  we 
are  off. 

Country  franklins  got  their  wains  out  of  our 
way  with  mighty  confusion,  and  coaches  drew 
aside  for  us  to  pass,  and  roadside  brats  scampered 
off  with  a  scream  of  freebooters;  but  M.  Radis- 
son only  laughed. 

"  This  is  living,"  said  he.  "  Give  your  nag 
rein,  Jean!  Whip  and  spur!  Ramsay!  Whip 
and  spur!  Nothing's  won  but  at  cost  of  a  sting! 
Throw  off  those  jack-boots,  Jean!  They're  a 
handicap!  Loose  your  holsters,  lad!  An  any 
highwaymen  come  at  us  to-day  I'll  send  him  a 
short  way  to  a  place  where  he'll  stay!  Whip  up! 
Whip  up!" 

344 


HOME    FROM    THE    BAY 

"What  have  you  under  your  arm?"  cries 
Jean  breathlessly. 

"  Rare  furs  for  the  king,"  calls  Radisson. 

Then  the  wind  is  in  our  hair,  and  thatched 
cots  race  off  in  a  blur  on  either  side;  plodding 
workmen  stand  to  stare  and  are  gone;  open 
fields  give  place  to  forest,  forest  to  village,  vil- 
lage to  bare  heath;  and  still  we  race  on. 

Midnight  found  us  pounding  through  the 
dark  of  London  streets  for  Cheapside,  where 
lived  Mr.  Young,  a  director  of  the  Hudson's  Bay 
Company,  who  was  favourable  to  Pierre  Ra- 
disson. 

"  Halloo!  Halloo!  "  shouts  Radisson,  beat- 
ing his  pistol-butt  on  the  door. 

A  candle  and  a  nightcap  emerge  from  the 
upper  window. 

''  Who's  there?  "  demands  a  voice. 

"  It's  Radisson,  Mr.  Young!  " 

"Radisson!  In  the  name  o'  the  fiends — 
where  from?  " 

"  Oh,  we've  just  run  across  the  way  from 
Hudson  Bay!"  says  Radisson. 

And  the  good  man  presently  appears  at  the 
door  with  a  candle  in  one  hand  and  a  bludgeon 
in  the  other. 

"  In  the  name  o'  the  fiends,  when  did  you 

345 


HERALDS    OF    EMPIRE 

arrive,  man?''  exclaims  Mr.  Young,  hailing  us 
inside. 

"  Two  minutes  ago  by  the  clock,"  laughs  Ra- 
disson,  looking  at  the  timepiece  in  the  hall. 
"  Two  minutes  and  a  half  ago,"  says  he,  follow- 
ing our  host  to  the  library. 

''  How  many  beaver-skins?  "  asks  the  Eng- 
lishman, setting  down  his  candle. 

The  Frenchman  smiles. 

"  Twenty  thousand  beaver  -  skins  and  as 
many  more  of  other  sorts!  " 

The  Englishman  sits  down  to  pencil  out  how 
much  that  will  total  at  ten  shillings  each;  and 
Pierre  Radisson  winks  at  us. 

"  The  winnings  again,"  says  he. 

*'  Twenty  thousand  pounds!  "  cries  our  host, 
springing  up. 

"  Aye,"  says  Pierre  Radisson,  "  twenty  thou- 
sand pounds'  worth  o'  fur  without  a  pound  of 
shot  or  the  trade  of  a  nail-head  for  them.  The 
French  had  these  furs  in  store  ready  for  us!  " 

Mr.  Young  lifts  his  candle  so  that  the  light 
falls  on  Radisson's  bronzed  face.  He  stands  star- 
ing as  if  to  make  sure  we  are  no  wrdths. 

*'  Twenty  thousand  pounds,"  says  he,  slowly 
extending  his  right  hand  to  Pierre  Radisson. 
"  Radisson,  man,  welcome!  " 

The  Frenchman  bows  with  an  ironical  laugh. 

346 


HOME    FROM   THE    BAY 

**  Twenty  thousand  pounds*  worth  o'  wel- 
come, sir!  " 

But  the  director  of  the  Fur  Company  ram- 
bles on  unheeding. 

"  These  be  great  news  for  the  king  and  His 
Royal  Highness,"  says  he. 

"  Aye,  and  as  I  have  some  rare  furs  for  them 
both,  why  not  let  us  bear  the  news  to  them 
ourselves?  "  asks  Radisson. 

"  That  you  shall,"  cries  Mr.  Young;  and  he 
led  us  up-stairs,  where  we  might  refresh  our- 
selves for  the  honour  of  presentation  to  His  Maj- 
esty next  day. 


23  347 


CHAPTER    XXVIIII 

REBECCA   AND    I    FALL   OUT 

M.  Radisson  had  carried  his  rare  furs  to  the 
king,  and  I  was  at  Sir  John  Kirke's  door  to  re- 
port the  return  of  her  husband  to  Madame  Ra- 
disson. The  same  grand  personage  with  sleek 
jowls  and  padded  calves  opened  the  door  in  the 
gingerly  fashion  of  his  office.  This  time  he  ush- 
ered me  quick  enough  into  the  dark  reception- 
room. 

As  I  entered,  two  figures  jumped  from  the 
shadow  of  a  tapestried  alcove  with  gasps  of 
fright. 

"Ramsay!'' 

It  was  Rebecca,  the  prim  monkey,  blushing 
a  deal  more  than  her  innocence  warranted,  with 
a  solemn-countenanced  gentleman  of  the  cloth 
scowling  from  behind. 

"  When — when — did  you  come?  "  she  asked, 
all  in  a  pretty  flutter  that  set  her  dimples  atrem- 
bling;  and  she  forgot  to  give  me  welcome. 

"  Now — exactly  on  the  minute!  " 

348 


REBECCA   AND    I    FALL   OUT 

"  Why— why— didn't    you    give    us    warn- 
ing?"   stammered    Rebecca,    putting    out    one 

shy  hand. 

'  At  that  I  laughed  outright;  but  it  was  as 
much  the  fashion  for  gentlemen  of  the  cloth  to 
affect  a  mighty  solemnity  in  those  days  as  it  was 
for  the  laitv  to  let  out  an  oath  at  every  other 
word,  and  the  young  divine  only  frowned  sourly 

at  mv  levity.  ^      ^^  . 

'^'  if__if__if  you'd  only  given  us  warnmg,    m- 

terrupts  Rebecca. 

"  Faith,  Rebecca,  an  you  talk  of  warnmg, 

I'll  begin  to  think  you  needed  it " 

"  To  give  you  welcome,"  explains  Rebecca. 
Then  recovering  herself,   she  begs,   with  a 
pretty  bobbing  courtesy,  to  make  me  known  to 
the  Reverend  Adam  Kittridge. 

The  Reverend  Kittridge  shakes  hands  with 
an  air  as  he  would  sound  my  doctrine  on  the 
spot,  and  Rebecca  hastens  to  add  that  I  am  "  a 
very — old — old  friend." 

"  Not  so  z'erv  old,  Rebecca,  not  so  very  long 
ago  since  you  and  I  read  over  the  same  lesson- 
books.  Do  you  mind  the  copy-heads  on  the  wri- 
ting-books? 

'''Heaven  to  Und.  The  Bible  mind.  In 
Adam's  fall  ive  sinn'ed  all  Adam  lived  a  lonely 
life  until  he  got  himself  a  ivifeJ  " 

349 


>  j> 


HERALDS    OF    EMPIRE 

But  at  that  last,  which  was  not  to  be  found 
among  the  head-Hnes  of  Boston's  old  copy- 
books, little  Rebecca  looked  like  to  drop,  and 
with  a  frightened  gesture  begged  us  to  be  seated, 
which  we  all  accomplished  with  a  perceptible 
stiffening  of  the  young  gentleman's  joints. 

"  Is  M.  Radisson  back?  "  she  asks. 

"  He  reached  England  yesterday.  He  bade 
me  say  that  he  will  be  here  after  he  meets  the 
shareholders.  He  goes  to  present  furs  to  the 
king  this  morning." 

''That  will  please  Lady  Kirke,"  says  the 
young  gentleman. 

"  Some  one  else  is  back  in  England,"  ex- 
claims Rebecca,  with  the  air  of  news.  "  Ben  Gil- 
lam  is  here." 

''  O-ho!    Has  he  seen  the  Company?  " 

"  He  and  Governor  Brigdar  have  been 
among  M.  Radisson's  enemies.  Young  Captain 
Gillam  says  there's  a  sailor-lad  working  on  the 
docks  here  can  give  evidence  against  M.  Radis- 
son. 

"  Can  you  guess  who  that  sailor-lad  is,  Re- 
becca? " 

"  It  is  not — no — it  is  not  Jack?  "  she  asks. 

"  Jack  it  is,  Rebecca.  That  reminds  me,  Jack 
sent  a  message  to  you!  " 

"  A  message  to  me?  " 

350 


REBECCA   AND    I    FALL   OUT 

"  Yes — you  know  he's  married — he  married 
last  year  when  he  was  in  the  north." 

''  Married?  "  cries  Rebecca,  throwing  up  her 
hands  and  Hke  to  faint  from  surprise.  "  ]\Iarried 
in  the  north?  Why — who — who  married  him, 
Ramsay?  " 

*' A  woman,  of  course!  " 

"  But — "  Rebecca  was  blushing  furiously, 
"  but — I  mean — was  there  a  chaplain?  Had  you 
a  preacher?  And — and  was  not  Mistress  Hor- 
tense  the  only  woman ?  " 

"  No— child — there  were  thousands  of  wom- 
en— native  women " 

*'  Squaws!  "  exclaims  the  prim  little  Puritan 
maid,  with  a  red  spot  burning  on  each  cheek. 
"  Do  you  mean  that  Jack  Battle  has  married  a 
squaw?  "  and  she  rose  indignantly. 

"No — I  mean  a  woman!  Now,  Rebecca, 
will  you  sit  down  till  I  tell  you  all  about  it?  " 

"  Sir,"  interjects  the  young  gentleman  of  the 
cloth,  "  I  protest  there  are  things  that  a  maid 
ought  not  to  hear!  " 

"  Then,  sir,  have  a  care  that  you  say  none  of 
them  under  cloak  of  religion!  Honi  soit  qui  mal 
y  pense!  The  mind  that  thinketh  no  evil  taketh 
no  evil." 

Then  I  turned  to  Rebecca,  standing  with  a 
startled  look  in  her  eyes. 

351 


HERALDS    OF   EMPIRE 

"  Rebecca,  Madame  Radisson  has  told  you 
how  Jack  was  left  to  be  tortured  by  the  In- 
dians? " 

"  Hortense  has  told  me." 

"  And  how  he  risked  his  life  to  save  an  Indi- 
an girl's  life?  " 

**  Yes,"  says  Rebecca,  with  downcast  lids. 

"  That  Indian  girl  came  and  untied  Jack's 
bonds  the  night  of  the  massacre.  They  escaped 
together.  When  he  went  snow-blind,  Mizza 
hunted  and  snared  for  him  and  kept  him.  Her 
people  were  all  dead;  she  could  not  go  back  to 
her  tribe — if  Jack  had  left  her  in  the  north,  the 
hostiles  would  have  killed  her.  Jack  brought  her 
home  with  him " 

"  He  ought  to  have  put  her  in  a  house  of  cor- 
rection," snapped  Rebecca. 

"  Rebecca!  Why  would  he  put  her  in  a  house 
of  correction?  What  had  she  done  that  she 
ought  not  to  have  done?  She  had  saved  his  life. 
He  had  saved  hers,  and  he  married  her." 

"  There  was  no  minister,"  said  Rebecca,  with 
a  tightening  of  her  childish  dimpled  mouth  and 
a  reddening  of  her  cheeks  and  a  little  indignant 
toss  of  the  chin. 

"  Rebecca!  How  could  they  get  a  minister  a 
thousand  leagues  away  from  any  church?    They 

will  get  one  now " 

352 


REBECCA   AND    I    FALL   OUT 

Rebecca  rose  stiffly,  her  little  lily  face  all 
aflame. 

"  My  father  saith  much  evil  cometh  of  this 
— it  is  sin — he  ought  not  to  have  married  her; 
and — and — it  is  very  wrong  of  you  to  be  tell- 
ing me  this — "  she  stammered  angrily,  with 
her  little  hands  clasped  tight  across  the  white 
stomacher. 

''  Very  unfit,"  comes  from  that  young  gen- 
tleman of  the  cloth. 

We  were  all  three  standing,  and  I  make  no 
doubt  my  own  face  went  as  red  as  theirs,  for  the 
taunt  bit  home.  That  inference  of  evil  where  no 
evil  was,  made  an  angrier  man  than  was  my 
wont.  The  two  moved  towards  the  door.  I  put 
myself  across  their  way. 

''  Rebecca,  you  do  yourself  wrong!  You  are 
measuring  other  people's  deeds  with  too  short  a 
yardstick,  little  woman,  and  the  wrong  is  in 
your  own  mind,  not  theirs." 

"  I — I — don't  know  what  you  mean!  "  cried 
Rebecca  obstinately,  with  a  break  in  her  voice 
that  ought  to  have  warned;  but  her  next  words 
provoked  afresh.  "  It  was  wicked! — it  was  sin- 
ful! " — with  an  angry  stamp — ''  it  was  shameful 
of  Jack  Battle  to  marry  an  Indian  girl " 

There  I  cut  in. 

"Was  it?"  I  asked.     "Young  woman,  let 

353 


HERALDS    OF    EMPIRE 

me  tell  you  a  bald  truth!  When  a  white  man 
marries  an  Indian,  the  union  is  as  honourable  as 
your  own  would  be.  It  is  when  the  white  man 
does  not  marry  the  Indian  that  there  is  shame; 
and  the  shame  is  to  the  white  man,  not  the  In- 
dian  ! " 

Sure,  one  might  let  an  innocent  bundle  of 
swans'  down  and  baby  cheeks  have  its  foibles 
without  laying  rough  hands  upon  them! 

The  next, — little  Rebecca  cries  out  that  I've 
insulted  her,  is  in  floods  of  tears,  and  marches 
off  on  the  young  gentleman's  arm. 

Comes  a  clatter  of  slippered  heels  on  the  hall 
floor  and  in  bustles  my  Lady  Kirke,  bejewelled 
and  befrilled  and  befiounced  till  I  had  thought 
no  mortal  might  bend  in  such  massive  casings 
of  starch. 

''La,"  she  pants,  "good  lack! — Wellaway! 
My  fine  savage!  Welladay!  What  a  pretty 
mischief  have  you  been  working?  Proposals 
are  amaking  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs.  O — lud! 
The  preacher  was  akissing  that  little  Puritan 
maid  as  I  came  by!  Good  lack,  what  will  Sir 
John  say?  " 

And  my  lady  laughs  and  laughs  till  I  look  to 
see  the  tears  stain  the  rouge  of  her  cheeks. 

"O— lud,"  she  laughs,  "I'm  like  to  die! 
He  tried  to  kiss  the  baggage!     And  the  little 

3S4 


REBECCA   AND    I    FALL   OUT 

saint  jumps  back  so  quick  that  he  hit  her  ear  by 
mistake!    La,"  she  laughs,  ''  I'm  Uke  to  die!  " 

I'd  a  mind  to  tell  her  ladyship  that  a  loosen- 
ing of  her  stays  might  prolong  life,  but  I  didn't. 
Instead,  I  delivered  the  message  from  Pierre  Ra- 
disson  and  took  myself  off  a  mighty  mad  man; 
for  youth  can  be  angry,  indeed.  And  the  cause 
of  the  anger  was  the  same  as  fretteth  the  Old 
World  and  New  to-day.  Rebecca  was  measur- 
ing Jack  by  old  standards.  I  was  measuring 
Rebecca  by  new  standards.  And  the  measuring 
of  the  old  by  the  new  and  the  new  by  the  old 
teareth  love  to  tatters. 

Pierre  Radisson  I  met  at  the  entrance  to  the 
Fur  Company's  offices  in  Broad  Street.  His 
steps  were  of  one  on  steel  springs  and  his  eyes 
afire  with  victory. 

"  We've  beaten  them,"  he  muttered  to  me. 
"  His  Majesty  favours  us!  His  Majesty  accepted 
the  furs  and  would  have  us  at  Whitehall  to-mor- 
row night  to  give  account  of  our  doings.  An 
they  try  to  trick  me  out  of  reward  I'll  have  them 
to  the  foot  o'  the  throne!  " 

But  of  Pierre  Radisson's  intrigue  against  his 
detractors  I  was  not  thinking  at  all. 

"  Were  the  courtiers  about?  "  I  asked. 

''  Egad!  yes;  Palmer  and  Buckingham  and 
Ashley  leering  at  Her  Grace  of  Portsmouth,  with 

355 


HERALDS   OF   EMPIRE 

Cleveland  looking  daggers  at  the  new  favourite, 
and  the  French  ambassador  shaking  his  sides 
with  laughter  to  see  the  women  at  battle.  His 
Royal  Highness,  the  Duke  of  York,  got  us  ac- 
cess to  present  the  furs.  Egad,  Ramsay,  I  am 
a  rough  man,  but  it  seemed  prodigious  strange  to 
see  a  king  giving  audience  in  the  apartments  of 
the  French  woman,  and  great  men  leering  for  a 
smile  from  that  huzzy!  The  king  lolls  on  a  Per- 
sian couch  with  a  litter  of  spaniel  puppies  on  one 
side  and  the  French  woman  on  the  other.  And 
what  do  you  think  that  black-eyed  jade  asks 
when  I  present  the  furs  and  tell  of  our  captured 
Frenchmen?  To  have  her  own  countrymen  sold 
to  the  Barbadoes  so  that  she  may  have  the 
money  for  her  gaming-table!  Egad,  I  spiked 
that  pretty  plan  by  saying  the  Frenchmen  were 
sending  her  a  present  of  furs,  too!  To-morrow 
night  we  go  to  Whitehall  to  entertain  His  Maj- 
esty with  our  doings!  We  need  not  fear  enemies 
in  the  Company  now!  '* 

"  I'm  not  so  sure  of  that,"  said  I.  "  The  Gil- 
lams  have  been  working  against  you  here,  and  so 
has  Brigdar." 

"Hah— let  them  work!" 

"  Did  you  see  her?  "  I  asked. 

''Her?  "  questions  Radisson  absently.  "  Par- 
dieu,  there  are  so  many  hers  about  the  court  now 

356 


REBECCA   AND    I    FALL   OUT 

with  no  she-saint  among  them!    Which  do  you 
mean?  " 

The  naming  of  Hortense  after  such  speech 
was  impossible.  Without  more  mention  of  the 
court,  we  entered  the  Company's  office,  where 
sat  the  councillors  in  session  around  a  long 
table.  No  one  rose  to  welcome  him  who  had 
brought  such  wealth  on  the  Happy  Return; 
and  the  reason  was  not  far  to  seek.  The  post- 
chaise  had  arrived  with  Pierre  Radisson's  de- 
tractors, and  allied  with  them  were  the  Gillams 
and  Governor  Brigdar. 

Pierre  Radisson  advanced  undaunted  and  sat 
down.  Black  looks  greeted  his  coming,  and  the 
deputy-governor,  who  was  taking  the  Duke  of 
York's  place,  rose  to  suggest  that ''  Mr.  Brigdar, 
wrongfully  dispossessed  of  the  fort  on  the  bay 
by  one  Frenchman  known  as  Radisson,  be  re- 
stored as  governor  of  those  parts." 

A  grim  smile  went  from  face  to  face  at  Pierre 
Radisson's  expense. 

'*  Better  withdraw,  man,  better  withdraw,'* 
whispers  Sir  John  Kirke,  his  father-in-law. 

But  Radisson  only  laughs. 

Then  one  rises  to  ask  by  what  authority  the 
Frenchman,  Radisson,  had  gone  to  report  mat- 
ters to  the  king  instead  of  leaving  that  to  the 
shareholders. 

357 


HERALDS   OF   EMPIRE 

M.  de  Radisson  utters  another  loud 
laugh. 

Comes  a  knocking,  and  there  appears  at  the 
door  Colonel  Blood,  father  of  the  young  lieuten- 
ant, with  a  message  from  the  king. 

"  Gentlemen,"  announces  the  freebooter, 
"  His  Majesty  hath  bespoke  dinner  for  the  Fur 
Company  at  the  Lion.  His  Royal  Highness,  the 
Duke  of  York,  hath  ordered  Madeira  for  the 
councillors'  refreshment,  and  now  awaits  your 
coming!  " 

For  the  third  time  M.  Radisson  laughs  aloud 
with  a  triumph  of  insolence. 

'*  Come,  gentlemen,"  says  he,  "  I've  coun- 
tered. Let  us  be  going.  His  Royal  Highness 
awaits  us  across  the  way." 

Blood  stood  twirling  his  mustaches  and  tap- 
ping his  sword-handle  impatiently.  He  was  as 
swarth  and  straight  and  dauntless  as  Pierre  Ra- 
disson, with  a  sinister  daring  in  his  eyes  that 
might  have  put  the  seal  to  any  act. 

"  Egad's  life!  "  he  exclaimed, ''  do  fur-traders 
keep  royalty  awaiting?  " 

And  our  irate  gentleman  must  needs  haste 
across  to  the  Lion,  where  awaited  the  Company 
Governor,  the  Duke  of  York,  with  all  the  merry 
young  blades  of  the  court.  King  Charles's  reign 
was  a  time  of  license,  you  have  been  told.    What 

358 


REBECCA   AND    I    FALL   OUT 

that  meant  vou  would  have  known  if  you  had 
seen  the  Fur  Company  at  dinner.    Blood,  Senior, 
I  mind,  had  a  drinking-match  agamst  Sir  George 
Teffrevs,  the  judge;  and  I  risk  not  my  word  on 
how  much  those  two  rascals  put  away,      ihe 
judge  it  was  who  went  under  mahogany  first, 
though  Colonel  Blood  scarce  had  wit  enough  left 
to  count  the  winnings  of  his  wager.  Young  Lieu- 
tenant Blood  stood  up  on  his  chair  and  bawled 
out  some  monstrous  bad-writ  verse  to  "  a  fair- 
dark  ladv  "—whatever  that  meant— '•  who  was 
as  cold  as  ice  and  combustible  as  gunpowder. 
Healths    were    drunk    to    His    Majesty    King 
Charles,  to  His  Royal  Highness  the  Duke  of 
York  to  our  councillors  of  the  Company,  to  our 
governors  of  the  fur-posts,  and  to  the  captams. 
Then  the  Duke  of  York  himself  lifted  the  cup  to 
Pierre  Radisson's  honour;  whereat  the  young 
courtiers  raised  such  a  cheering,  the  grim  silence 
of  Pierre  Radisson's  detractors  passed  unnoticed. 
After  the  Duke  of  York  had  withdrawn,  our  riot- 
ous sparks  threw  of?  all  restraint.     On  bended 
knee  they  drank  to  that  fair  evil  woman  whom 
King  Louis  had  sent  to  ensnare  King  Charles^ 
Odds  were  offered  on  how  long  her  power  with 
the  king  would  last.     Then  followed  toasts  to  a 
list   of   second-rate   names,   dancing   girls   and 
French  milliners,  who  kept  place  of  assignation 

359 


HERALDS    OF   EMPIRE 

for  the  dissolute  crew,  and  maids  of  honour,  who 
were  no  maids  of  honour,  but  adventuresses  in 
the  pay  of  great  men  to  advance  their  interest 
with  the  king,  and  riffraff  women  whose  names 
history  hath  done  well  to  forget.  To  these  toasts 
Colonel  Blood  and  Pierre  Radisson  and  I  sat 
with  inverted  glasses. 

While  the  inn  was  ringing  to  the  shouts 
of  the  revellers,  the  freebooter  leaned  across  to 
Pierre  Radisson. 

"  Gad's  name  if  they  like  you,"  he  mumbled 
drunkenly. 

^' Who?  "asked  Radisson. 

"  Fur  Company,"  explained  Blood.  "  They 
hate  you!  So  they  do  me!  But  if  the  king  fa- 
vours you,  they've  got  to  have  you,"  and  he 
laughed  to  himself. 

"  That's  the  way  with  me,"  he  whispered  in 
drunken  confidence  to  M.  Radisson.  ''  What  a 
deuce?  "  he  asked,  turning  drowsily  to  the  table. 
"  What's  my  boy  doing?  " 

Young  Lieutenant  Blood  was  to  his  feet 
holding  a  reaming  glass  high  as  his  head. 

'*  Gentlemen,  I  give  you  the  sweet  savage! " 
he  cried,  "  the  Diana  of  the  snows — a  thistle 
like  a  rose — ice  that  burns — a  pauper  that 
spurns " 

*'  Curse  me  if  he  doesn't  mean  that  saucy 

360 


REBECCA   AND    I    FALL    OUT 

wench  late  come  from  your  north  fort,"  inter- 
rupted the  father. 

IMy  hands  were  itching  to  throw  a  glass  in  the 
face  of  father  or  son,  but  Pierre  Radisson  re- 
strained me. 

"  More  to  be  done  sometimes  bv  doinsr  noth- 
ing,"  he  whispered. 

The  young  fellows  were  on  their  knees  drain- 
ing bumpers;  but  Colonel  Blood  was  rambling 
again. 

"  He  gives  'em  that  saucy  brat,  does  he? 
Gad's  me,  I'd  give  her  to  perdition  for  twopenny- 
worth  o'  rat  poison!  Look  you,  Radisson,  'tis 
what  I  did  once;  but  she's  come  back!  Curse 
me,  I  could  'a'  done  it  neater  and  cheaper  myself 
— twopenny-worth  o'  poison  would  do  it,  Picot 
said;  but  gad's  me,  I  paid  him  a  hundred  guin- 
eas, and  here  she's  come  back  again!  " 

''  Blood  .  .  .  Colonel  Blood,"  M.  Picot  had 
repeated  at  his  death. 

I  had  sprung  up.  Again  ]\I.  Radisson  held 
me  back. 

"  How  long  ago  was  that,  Colonel  Blood?  '* 
he  asked  softly. 

''  Come  twenty  year  this  day  s'ennight,"  mut- 
ters the  freebooter.  ''  'Twas  before  I  entered 
court  service.  Her  father  had  four  o'  my  fel- 
lows gibbeted  at  Charing  Cross.     Gad's  me,  I 

361 


HERALDS    OF   EMPIRE 

swore  he'd  sweat  for  it!  She  was  Osmond's  only 
child — squalling  brat  coming  with  nurse  over 
Hounslow  Heath.  'Sdeath — I  see  it  yet!  Pos- 
tillions yelled  like  stuck  pigs,  nurses  kicked  over 
in  coach  dead  away.  When  they  waked  up,  curse 
me,  but  the  French  poisoner  had  the  brat! 
Curse  me,  Fd  done  better  to  finish  her  myself. 
Picot  ran  away  and  wrote  letters — letters — let- 
ters, till  I  had  to  threaten  to  sUt  his  throat,  'pon 
my  soul,  I  had!  And  now  she  must  marry  the 
boy " 

*'  Why?  "  put  in  Radisson,  with  cold  indif- 
ference and  half-listening  air. 

"  Gad's  life,  can't  you  see?  "  asked  the  knave. 
''  Osmond's  dead,  the  boy's  lands  are  hers — the 
French  doctor  may  'a'  told  somebody,"  and 
Colonel  Blood  of  His  Majesty's  service  sHd  under 
the  table  with  the  judge. 

M.  Radisson  rose  and  led  the  way  out. 

"  You'd  like  to  cudgel  him,"  he  said. 
"  Come  with  me  to  Whitehall  instead!  " 


362 


CHAPTER   XXIX 

THE   king's   pleasure 

My  Lady  Kirke  was  all  agog. 

Pierre  Radisson  was  her  "  dear  sweet  sav- 
age," and  ''naughty  spark,"  and  ''bold,  bad 
beau,"    and    "devilish    fellow,"    and    "lovely 

wretch!" 

"  La,  Pierre,"  she  cries,  with  a  tap  of  her  fan, 
"  anybody  can  go  to  the  king's  leveel  But,  dear 
heart!  "  she  trills,  with  a  sidelong  ogle.  "  Ta!— 
ta!  naughty  devil!— to  think  of  our  sweet  savage 
going  to  Whitehall  of  an  evening!  Lud,  Mary, 
I'll  wager  you.  Her  Grace  of  Portsmouth  hath 

laid  eyes  on  him " 

"  The  Lord  forbid!  "  ejaculates  Pierre  Radis- 
son. 

"Hoighty-toighty!  Now!  there  you  go, 
my  saucy  spark!  Good  lack!  An  the  king's 
women  laid  eyes  on  any  other  man,  'twould  turn 
his  head  and  be  his  fortune!  Naughty  fellow! 
she  warns,  with  a  flirt  of  her  fan.  "  We  shall 
watch  you!  Ta-ta,  don't  tell  me  no!  Oh,  we 
24  3^3 


HERALDS    OF   EMPIRE 

know  this  gaite  de  coetirl  You'll  presently  be 
intime  o'  Portsmouth  and  Cleveland  and  all  o' 
them!" 

"  Madame,"  groans  Pierre  Radisson,  ''swear, 
if  you  will!  But  as  you  love  me,  don't  abuse  the 
French  tongue!  " 

At  which  she  gave  him  a  slap  with  her 
fan. 

"  An  I  were  not  so  young,''  she  simpers,  "  I'd 
cufif  your  ears,  you  saucy  Pierre!  " 

''  So  young!  "  mutters  Pierre  Radisson,  with 
grim  looks  at  her  powdered  locks.  "  Egad's  life, 
so  is  the  bud  on  a  century  plant  young,"  and  he 
turns  to  his  wife. 

But  my  Lady  Kirke  was  blush-proof. 

"  Don't  forget  to  pay  special  compliments  to 
the  favourites,"  she  calls,  as  we  set  out  for  White- 
hall; and  she  must  run  to  the  door  in  a  flutter 
and  ask  if  Pierre  Radisson  has  any  love-verse 
ready  writ,  in  case  of  an  amour  with  one  of  the 
court  ladies. 

"  No,"  says  Radisson,  "  but  here  are  unpaid 
tailor  bills!  'Tis  as  good  as  your  billets-douxl 
I'll  kiss  'em  just  as  hard!  " 

"  So!  "  cries  Lady  Kirke,  bobbing  a  courtesy 
and  blowing  a  kiss  from  her  finger-tips  as  we 
rolled  away  in  Sir  John's  coach. 

"The    old    flirt-o'-tail,"    blurted    Radisson, 

364 


THE    KING'S   PLEASURE 

"you  could  pack  her  brains  in  a  hazel-nut;  but 

'twould  turn  the  stomach  of  a  grub!" 

•  •  * 

.  •  • 

Twas  not  the  Whitehall  you  know  to-day, 

which  is  but  a  remnant  of  the  grand  old  pile 

that  stretched  all  the  way  from  the  river  front  to 

the  inner  park.     Before  the  fires,  Whitehall  was 

a  city  of  palaces  reaching  far  into  St.  James, 

with  a  fleet  of  royal  barges  at  float  below  the 

river  stairs.     From  Scotland  Yard  to  Bridge 

Street    the    royal    ensign    blew    to    the    wind 

above   tower   and   parapet   and   battlement.      I 

mind    under   the    archway    that    spanned    little 

Whitehall    Street    U,    Radisson    dismissed   our 

coachman. 

''  How  shall  we  bring  up  the  matter  of  Hor- 

tense?  "  I  asked. 

'•  Trust  me,"  said  Radisson.    "  The  gods  of 

chancel" 

"  Will  you  petition  the  king  direct?  " 
"Egad— no!  -Never  petition  a  selfish  man 
direct,  or  you'll  get  a  No!  Bring  him  round  to 
the  generous,  so  that  he  may  take  all  credit  for 
it  himself!  Do  you  hold  back  among  the  on- 
lookers till  I've  told  our  stor>'  o'  the  north!  'Tis 
not  a  state  occasion!  Egad,  there'll  be  court 
wenches  a  plenty  ready  to  take  up  with  a  likely 
looking  man  I    Have  a  word  with  Hortense  if 

365 


HERALDS   OF   EMPIRE 

you  can !  Let  me  but  get  the  king's  ear — "  And 
Radisson  laughed  with  a  confidence,  methought, 
nothing  on  earth  could  shake. 

Then  we  were  passed  from  the  sentinel  doing 
duty  at  the  gate  to  the  king's  guards,  and  from 
the  guards  to  orderHes,  and  from  orderlies  to 
fellows  in  royal  colours,  who  led  us  from  an  ante- 
room to  that  glorious  gallery  of  art  where  it 
pleased  the  king  to  take  his  pleasure  that 
night. 

It  was  not  a  state  occasion,  as  Radisson  said; 
but  for  a  moment  I  think  the  glitter  in  which 
those  jaded  voluptuaries  burned  out  their  moth- 
lives  bhnded  even  the  clear  vision  of  Pierre  Ra- 
disson. The  great  gallery  was  thronged  with 
graceful  courtiers  and  stately  dowagers  and  gaily 
attired  page-boys  and  fair  ladies  with  a  beauty 
of  youth  on  their  features  and  the  satiety  of  age 
in  their  look.  My  Lord  Preston,  I  mind,  was 
costumed  in  purple  velvet  with  trimming  of 
pearls  such  as  a  girl  might  wear.  Young  Blood 
moved  from  group  to  group  to  show  his  white 
velvets  sparkling  with  diamonds.  One  of  the 
Sidneys  was  there  playing  at  hazard  with  my 
Lady  Castlemaine  for  a  monstrous  pile  of  gold 
on  the  table,  which  some  onlookers  whispered 
made  up  three  thousand  guineas.  As  I  watched 
my  lady  lost;  but  in  spite  of  that,  she  coiled  her 

366 


THE   KING'S   PLEASURE 

bare  arm  around  the  gold  as  if  to  hold  the  win- 
nings back. 

"  And  indeed,"  I  heard  her  say,  with  a  pout, 
"  I've  a  mind  to  prove  your  love!    I've  a  mind 

not  to  pay!" 

At  which  young  Sidney  kisses  her  finger-tips 
and  bids  her  pay  the  debt  in  favours;  for  the  way 
to  the  king  was  through  the  influence  of  Castle- 
maine  or  Portsmouth  or  other  of  the  dissolute 

crew. 

Round  other  tables  sat  men  and  women,  old 
and  young,  playing  away  estate  and  fortune  and 
honour  at  tick-tack  or  ombre  or  basset.     One 
noble  lord  was  so  old  that  he  could  not  see  to 
game,  and  must  needs  have  his  valet  by  to  tell 
him  how  the  dice  came  up.     On  the  walls  hung 
the  works  of  Vandyke  and  Correggio  and  Ra- 
phael and  Rubens;  but  the  pure  faces  of  art's 
creation    looked    down    on    statesmen   bending 
low   to    the    beck    of    adventuresses,    old    men 
pawning  a  noble  name  for  the  leer  of  a  Ports- 
mouth, and  women  vying  for  the  glance  of  a 

jaded  king. 

At  the  far  end  of  the  apartment  was  a  page- 
boy dressed  as  Cupid,  singing  love-songs.  In 
the  group  of  Hsteners  lolled  the  languid  kmg. 
Portsmouth  sat  near,  fanning  the  passion  of  a 
poor  voung  fool,  who  hung  about  her  Hke  a 


HERALDS    OF    EMPIRE 

moth;  but  Charles  was  not  a  lover  to  be  spurred. 
As  Portsmouth  played  her  ruse  the  more  openly 
a  contemptuous  smile  flitted  over  the  proud, 
dark  face  of  the  king,  and  he  only  fondled  his 
lap-dog  with  indifferent  heed  for  all  those  flatter- 
ers and  foot-lickers  and  curry-favours  hovering 
round  royalty. 

Barillon,  the  French  ambassador,  pricked  up 
his  ears,  I  can  tell  you,  when  Chaffinch,  the 
king's  man,  came  back  with  word  that  His  Maj- 
esty was  ready  to  hear  M.  Radisson. 

"  Now,  lad,  move  about  and  keep  your  eyes 
open  and  your  mouth  shut!  "  whispers  M.  Radis- 
son as  he  left  me. 

Barillon  would  have  followed  to  the  king's 
group,  but  His  Majesty  looked  up  with  a 
quiet  insolence  that  sent  the  ambassador  to 
another  circle.  Then  a  page-boy  touched  my 
arm. 

"  Master  Stanhope?  "  he  questioned. 

"  Yes,"  said  I. 

"  Come  this  way,"  and  he  led  to  a  tapes- 
tried comer,  where  sat  the  queen  and  her 
ladies. 

Mistress  Hortense  stood  behind  the  royal 
chair. 

Queen  Catherine  extended  her  hand  for  my 
salute. 

368 


THE    KING'S    PLEASURE 

"  Her  Majesty  is  pleased  to  ask  what  has  be- 
come of  the  sailJr-lad  and  his  bride,"  said  Hor- 

tense. 

•"  Hath  the  Uttle  Puritan  helped  to  get  them 
married  right?  "  asked  the  queen,  with  the  soft 
trill  of  a  foreign  tongue. 

-  Your  :\Iajesty,"  said  I,  ''  the  little  Puritan 

holds  back." 

"It    is     as    vou    thought,"     said     Queen 
Catherine,     looking     over     her     shoulder     to 

Hortense.  ,,      i    j    i 

-  Would  another  bridesmaid  do?     asked  the 

queen. 

Laughing  looks  passed  among  the  ladies. 
''  If  the  bridesmaid  were  ^^listress  Hillary, 
Your  Majesty,"  I  began. 

''  Hortense  hath  been  to  see  them.'' 
I  might  have  guessed.    It  was  like  Hortense 
to  seek  the  lonely  pair. 

''  Here  is  the  king.  We  must  ask  his  ad- 
vice," said  the  queen. 

M  the  king's  entrance  all  fell  back  and  I 
managed  to  whisper  to  Hortense  what  we  had 
learned  the  night  before. 

-Here  are  news,"  smiled  His  Majesty. 
"  Your  maid  of  the  north  is  Osmond's  daughter! 
The  lands  young  Lieutenant  Blood  wants  are 

hers!" 

3^ 


HERALDS   OF    EMPIRE 

At  that  were  more  looks  among  the  ladies. 

*'  And  faith,  the  lieutenant  asks  for  her  as 
well  as  the  lands,"  said  the  king. 

Hortense  had  turned  very  white  and  moved 
a  little  forward. 

"  We  may  not  disturb  our  loyal  subject's  pos- 
session. What  does  Osmond's  daughter  say?  '* 
questioned  the  king. 

Then  Hortense  took  her  fate  in  her  hands. 

"  Your  Majesty,"  she  said,  ''  if  Osmond's 
daughter  did  not  want  the  lands,  it  would  not  be 
necessary  to  disturb  the  lieutenant." 

^'  And  who  would  find  a  husband  for  a  por- 
tionless bride?  "  asked  King  Charles. 

*'  May  it  please  Your  Majesty,"  began  Hor- 
tense; but  the  words  trembled  unspoken  on  her 
lips. 

There  was  a  flutter  among  the  ladies.  The 
queen  turned  and  rose.  A  half-startled  look  of 
comprehension  came  to  her  face.  And  out 
stepped  Mistress  Hortense  from  the  group 
behind. 

*'  Your  Majesties,"  she  stammered,  "  I  do 
not  want  the  lands '* 

*'  Nor  the  lieutenant,"  laughed  the  king. 

"  Your  Majesties,"  she  said.  She  could  say 
no  more. 

But  with  the  swift  intuition  of  the  lonely 

3/0 


THE    KING'S    PLEASURE 

woman's  loveless  heart,  Queen  Catherine  read  in 
my  face  what  a  poor  trader  might  not  speak. 
She  reached  her  hand  to  me,  and  when  I  would 
have  saluted  it  like  any  dutiful  subject,  she  took 
my  hand  in  hers  and  placed  Hortense's  hand  in 
mine. 

Then  there  w^as  a  great  laughing  and  hand- 
shaking and  protesting,  with  the  courtiers 
thronging  round. 

"  Ha,  Radisson,"  Barillon  was  saying,  "  you 
not  only  steal  our  forts— you  must  rifle  the  court 
and  run  oft  with  the  queen's  maid!  " 

"  And  there  will  be  two  marriages  at  the  sail- 
or's wedding,"  said  the  queen. 

It  was  Hortense's  caprice  that  both  mar- 
riaees  be  deferred  till  we  reached  Boston  Town, 
w^here  she  must  needs  seek  out  the  old  Puritan 
divine  whom  I  had  helped  to  escape  so  many 
years  ago. 

Before  I  lay  down  my  pen,  I  would  that  I 
could  leave  with  you  a  picture  of  M.  Radisson, 
the  indomitable,  the  victorious,  the  dauntless, 
living  in  opulence  and  peace! 

But  mv  last  memorv  of  him,  as  our  ship 
sheered  away  for  Boston  Town,  is  of  a  grave 
man  standing  on  the  quay  denouncing  princes' 
promises  and  gazing  into  space. 

371 


HERALDS   OF   EMPIRE 

M.  Radisson  lived  to  serve  the  Fur  Company 
for  many  a  year  as  history  tells;  but  his  service 
Avas  as  the  flight  of  a  great  eagle,  harried  by  a 
multitude  of  meaner  birds. 


THE    END 


372 


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"The  attention  of  the  reader  is  held  from  start  to  finish,  because  the  whole 
plot  is  original,  and  one  can  not  tell  what  is  going  to  happen  next," — JVash' 
ington  Times. 

The  Beleaguered  Forest. 

By  Elia  W.  Peattie.     i  2mo.     Cloth,  $1.50. 

"'The  Beleaguered  Forest'  is  not  a  novel — it  is  a  romance;  it  is  not  a 

romance — it  is  a  poem,"  —  Chicago  Post. 

D.      APPLETON     AND     COMPANY,     NEW     YORK. 


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